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MY HOME IN THE
FIELD OF HONOUR

FRANCES WILSON HUARD

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MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

MY HOME IN THE
FIELD OF HONOUR

BY

FRANCES WILSON HUARD

WITH DRAWINGS BY CHARLES HUARD

NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

Copyright, 1916, by
George H. Doran Company

Printed in the United^^^t^tes of America

MAY 22 1916
©CI.A433090

To H.

ILLUSTRATIONS
My Home in the Field of Honour Frontispiece

PAGE

They Asked for H. in the Courtyard : "In case
OF Mobilisation, you have three Horses and

YOUR FARM-CART TO PRESENT TO THE AUTHORI-
TIES" 18"

At the Entrance to every little Village we

WERE obliged TO HALT 44

We drove through the quaint little city.. . 70'

One by one the towns and villages had been
bombarded, looted and burned 96 '

All THE BRIDGES WERE CUT OR BLOWN UP 122'

Noisy rolling sounds told me that Artillery
was crossing the city 148

as we crossed the public square the ambu-
lances were lining up in battle array. . . 174"^

Ruins of Every Farm House stood like Spec-
tres IN THE Brilliant Sunshine 200 '^

Doors and Windows no Longer Existed 226'

A Bugle sounded and I could hear the Tramp
OF Soldiers' Feet 252

A huge Black Cross stood forth in the semi-
darkness 280'

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF
HONOUR

The third week in July found a very merry
gathering at the Chateau de VilHers.

(VilHers is our summer home situated near
the Marne River, sixty miles or an hour by
train from Paris.)

Nothing, I think, could have been farther
from our thoughts than the idea of war. Our
friends, May Wilson Preston, the artist ; Mrs.
Chase, the editor of a well-known woman's
magazine; Hugues Delorme, the French
dramatist; and numerous other guests, dis-
cussed the theatre and the "Caillaux case" from
every conceivable point of view, and their con-
versations were only interrupted by serious
attempts to prove their national superiority at
bridge, and long delightful walks in the park.

As I look back now over those cheerful times,
I can distinctly remember one bright sunny
morning, when after a half -hour's climbing we

[9]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

reached the highest spot on our property.
Very warm and a trifle out of breath we sought
shelter beneath a big purple beech, and I can
still hear H. explaining to Mrs. Chase:

"Below you on the right runs the Marne,
and over there, beyond those hills, do you see
that long straight line of trees?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's the road that leads from Paris
to Metz!"

At that moment I'm confident he hadn't the
slightest arriere pensee.

On Monday, the 27th, Mrs. Preston, hav-
ing decided to take her leave, I determined to
accompany her to Paris. Several members of
the house party joined us, leaving H. and a
half-dozen friends at Villiers. We took an
early morning train, and wrapped in our news-
papers we were rolling peacefully towards the
capital when someone called out, "For
Heaven's sake, look at those funny soldiers!"

Glancing through the window, I caught sight
of numerous grey-haired, bushy-bearded men
stationed at even distances along the line, while
here and there little groups beneath or around
a tent were preparing the morning meal.
[10]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

What strange looking creatures they were;
anything but military in their dirty white over-
alls— the only things that betrayed their call-
ing being their caps and their guns !

"What on earth are they?" queried an
American.

"Oh, only some territorials serving their last
period of twenty-nine days. It's not worth
while giving them uniforms for so short a
time!"

"Bah!" came from the other end of the com-
partment, "I should think it was hot enough
in the barracks without forcing men that age
to mount guard in the sun !"

"It's about time for the Grand manoeuvres,
isn't it?"

And in like manner the conversation rose
and dwindled, and we returned to our papers,
paying no more attention to the territorials
stationed along the rails.

A theatre party having been arranged, I
decided to stop over in Paris. The play was
Georgette Lemeunier at the Comedie Fran-
9aise. The house was full — the audience
chiefly composed of Americans and tourists,
and throughout the entire piece even very sig-

[11]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

nificant allusions to current political events
failed to arouse any unwonted enthusiasm on
the part of the French contingent. Outside
not even an edition speciale de la Presse be-
tokened the slightest uneasiness.

The next day, that is, Tuesday, the 28th,
I had a business meeting with my friends, Mr.
Gautron and Mr. Pierre Mortier, editor of the
Gil Bias, Mr. Gautron was on the minute,
but Mr. Mortier kept us waiting over an hour
and when finally we had despaired of his com-
ing I heard someone hurrying across the court,
and the bell was rung impatiently. Mr.
Mortier rushed in, unannounced, very red, very
excited, very apologetic.

"A thousand pardons. I'm horribly late,
but you'll forgive me when you hear the news.
I've just come from the Foreign Office. All
diplomatic relations with Germany are sus-
pended. War will be declared Saturday!"

Mr. Gautron and I looked at each other,
then at Mr. Mortier, and smiled.

"No, I'm not joking. I'm as serious as I

have ever been in my life. The proof: on

leaving the Foreign Office I went and had a

neglected tooth filled, and on my way down,

[12]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

stopped at my shoemaker's and ordered a pair
of good strong boots for Saturday morning.
I'll be fit then to join my regiment."

Our faces fell.

"But why Saturday?"

"Because Saturday's the first of August,
and the idea of keeping the news back is to
prevent a panic on the Bourse, and to let the
July payments have time to be realized."

"You don't really believe it's serious, do
you?"

"Yes, really. I'm not fooling, and if I've
any advice to give you it's this: draw out all
the money you can from your bank, and take
all the gold they'll give you. You may need it.
I've telephoned to the Gil Bias for them to do
as much for us. The worst of all though is,
that every man on my paper is of an age
bound to military service. War means that
when I leave, staff, printers and all will have
to go the same day and the Gil Bias shuts its
doors. We cease to exist — that's all."

Somewhat disconcerted by this astonishing

news, we had some little difficulty getting

down to facts, but when we did business was

speedily dispatched and Mr. Mortier took his

[13]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

leave. Mr. Gautron carried me off to
luncheon.

"You must come," he protested when I
pleaded an engagement. "You must come,
or my wife and the boys will never believe me."

We found Madame Gautron and her two
splendid sons waiting, rather impatiently. We
told our news.

"Come, come now. You can't make us take
that as an excuse!"

We protested our sincerity, and went in to
luncheon which began rather silently.

I questioned the boys as to their military
duties. Both were under-officers in an infantry
regiment — bound to join their barracks within
twenty-four hours after the call to arms.

We did not linger over our coffee. Each
one seemed anxious to go about his affairs. I
left the Gautron boys at the corner of their
street, each carrying his army shoes imder his
arm.

"To be greased — in case of accident," they
laughingly explained.

That was the last time I ever saw them.
They fell "on the Field of Honour" both the
same day, and hardly a month later.
[14]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

But to return to my affairs.

A trifle upset by what Mr. Mortier had told
me, I hurried to the nearest telephone station
and asked for Villiers. When after what
seemed an interminable time I got the connec-
tion, I explained to H. what had happened.

"For Heaven's sake leave politics alone and
take the five o'clock train home! We need
you to make a second fourth at bridge."
H.'s lightheartedness somewhat reassured me,
though for prudence's sake I went to my bank
and asked to withdraw my entire account.

"Why, Madame Huard," said the clerk in
surprise, "you don't mean to say you are
frightened?"

I explained what I had heard in the morning.

^'Pensez-vous? Non! We would be the first
to be notified. We were ever so much closer
to war two years ago — at Agadir! There is
no cause for alarm."

He almost persuaded me, but after hesitat-
ing a moment I decided to abide by my original
intentions.

"I can always put my money back in a week
or so if all blows over and I find I don't need
it," I argued.

[15]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Certainly, Madame — as you will."

And the twenty-eighth of July the Societe
Generate gave me all the gold I requested.

As the five o'clock express hurried me hack
home I began to understand the gravity of
the situation — for the "queer looking soldiers"
were nearer together all along the railway line,
and it dawned on me that theirs was a very
serious mission — ^namely, that of safeguarding
the steel artery which leads from Paris to the
eastern frontier.

At Charly, our station, I was much surprised
to see three French officers in full uniform get
off the train and step into the taxi-autobus
which deposits its travellers at the only hotel
in the vicinity.

At the chateau my story failed to make an
impression. The men pooh-poohed the idea
of war, and returned to the evening papers
and the proces Caillauw, which was the most
exciting question of the moment. In the pan-
try the news was greeted with hilarity, and
coachman and gardener declared that they
would shoulder their spades and faire la guerre
en sabots.

My friend and neighbor, Elizabeth Gau-
[16]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

thier, was the only one who took the matter
seriously, and that because she had no less
than five brothers and a husband who would
be obliged to serve in case of serious events.
I felt rather ashamed when I saw her coun-
tenance darken, for after all, she was alone in
Villiers with two tiny children; her husband,
the well-known archivist, coming down but for
the week-end. "What is the sense of alarming
people so uselessly?" I thought.

Wednesday, the 29th, the papers began to
talk of "a tension in the political relations
between France and Germany" which, how-
ever, did not quench the gaiety of a picnic
luncheon in the grove by our river.

In the afternoon the old garde-champetre
asked for H. in the courtyard.

"In case of mobilisation," said he, "y^^ have
three horses and your farm cart to present to
the authorities. Your cart must have its awn-
ings complete. And your horses harnessed
with their halters!"

H. laughed and told him that he was giving
himself a lot of useless trouble.

Thursday, the 30th, market day at Charly,
the nearest town to Villiers. We both drove
[17]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

down in the victoria, and were not surprised
to see my officers of the day before seated in
the hotel dining-room, finishing breakfast.

"What are they down here for?" I queried
of the proprietor.

"Oh, they belong to the Etat Major and
are out here to verify their maps. The Mayor
has given them an office in the town hall. They
go off on their bicycles eariy every morning
and only return for meals."

"Oh!"

"It's rather a treat to see a uniform out here,
where hardly an officer has appeared since last
year when we had Prince George of Servia and
his staff for three days."

The general topic on the market place was
certainly not war, and we drove home some-
what reassured.

Friday, the 31st, however, the tone of the
newspapers was serious and our little village
began to grow alarmed when several soldiers
on holiday leave received individual official
telegrams to rejoin their regiments immedi-
ately. Little knots of peasants could be seen
grouped together along the village street, a
thing unheard of in that busy season when
[18]

-^ /"

.-^J-^'

THEY ASKED FOR H. IN THE COURTYARD: "iN CASE
OF MOBILISATION, YOU HAVE THREE HORSES AND
YOUR FARM-CART TO PRESENT TO THE AUTHORI-
TIES" [Page 17]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

vineyards need so much attention. Towards
noon the news ran hke wildfire that men be-
longing to the youngest classes had received
their official notices and were leaving to join
their corps. Yet there was no commotion any-
where.

"It will last three weeks and they'll all come
home, safe and sound. It's bothersome, though,
that the Government should choose just our
busiest season to take the men out for a holi-
day!" declared one peasant.

There was less hilarity in the servants' hall
when I entered after luncheon. At least I
fancied so. The men had gone about their
work quicker than usual, and the women were
silently washing up.

"Does Madame know that the fils Poupard
is leaving by the four o'clock train — and that
Granger and Veron are going too?" asked
my faithful Catherine.

"No."

"Yes, Madame — and Honorine is in the
wash-house crying as though her heart would
break."

I turned on my heel and walked toward the
river. In the wash-house I found Honorine
[19]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

bending over her linen, the great tears stream-
ing down her face, in spite of her every effort
to control them.

*'Why, Honorine, what's the matter?"

"He's gone, Madame — gone without my see-
ing him — without even a clean pair of socks!"

"Who?"

"My son, Madame!"

And the tears burst out afresh, though in
silence.

"Yes, Madame, I found this under the door
when I came in at noon — " She drew a
crumpled paper from her apron pocket. I
smoothed it out and read:

''Je viens de recevoir ma feuille, Je pars de
suite, Je prends les deuoo francs sur la
cheminee. Jean" (I've just received my
notice. Am leaving at once. Have taken the
two francs that are on the mantel. Jean.)

I cannot say what an impression that brief
but heroic note made upon me. In my mind it
has always stood as characteristic of that won-
derful national resolution to do one's duty, and
to make the least possible fuss about it.

At tea-time the male contingent of the house-
party was decidedly restless.
[20]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Let's go up to Paris and see what's going

on."

"There's no use doing that. Ehzabeth
Gauthier went this morning and will be back
in an hour with all the news. It's too late to
go to town, anyway!"

"Well, if things don't look better to-morrow
I've got to go. My militaiy book is somewhere
in my desk at home and it's best to have it en
regie in case of necessity," said Delorme.

"Mine's at home, too," echoed our friend
Bouteron.

"We'll all go to-morrow, and make a day of
it," decided H.

Just then the silhouette of the three officers
on bicycles passed up the road.

"Let's go out and ask them what's up,"
suggested someone.

"Pooh! Do you think they know anything
more than we do ? And if they do know some-
thing, they wouldn't tell you! Don't make a
fool of yourself, Hugues!"

Presently Elizabeth Gauthier arrived, placid
and cool as though everything were normal.

"Paris is calm; calm as Paris always is in
August."

[21]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"But the papers? Your husband? What
does he say?"

"There are no extras — Leon doesn't seem
over-alarmed, though as captain in the reserves
he would have to leave within an hour after any
declaration of hostilities. He has a special
mission to perform. But he's certain of com-
ing down by the five o'clock train to-morrow."

We went in to dinner but conversation
lagged. Each one seemed preoccupied and no
one minded the long silences. We were so
quiet that the Angelus ringing at Charly, some
four miles away, roused us with something of
a shock.

Saturday morning, August 1st, the carryall
rolled up to the station for the early train.
All made a general rush for the papers which
had just arrived and all of us were equally
horrified when a glance showed the headline —
JaurJis^ the Great Socialist Leader^ Assas-
sinated. Decidedly the plot thickened and
naturally we all jumped to the same conclusion
— a political crime.

"There's a stronger hand than the mur-
derer's back of that felony," murmured a plain
man from the comer of our compartment.
[22]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"What makes you say that?"

"Why, can't you see, Monsieur, that our
enemies are counting on that deed to stir up
the revolutionary party and breed discord in
the country? It's plain as day !"

That was rather opening the door to a
lengthy discussion, but our friends refused to
debate, especially as we could hear excited mas-
culine voices rising high above the ordinary
tone in the compartments on either side of us.

The journey di^ew to a close without an}^
further remarkable incident. It seemed to me
that we passed more up trains than usual, but
we were not a moment overdue. There was
nothing to complain of. As we approached La
Villette and drew into the Gare de I'Est every-
one noticed the extraordinary number of loco-
motives that were getting up steam in the
yards. There were rows and rows of them,
just as close together as it was possible to
range them, and as far as the eye could see
their glittering boilers extended down the
tracks in even lines. Each one had a freshly
glued yellow label, on which was printed in
big black capitals the name of its home station.
That was the most significant preparation we
[23]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

had witnessed as yet. Presently we observed
that the platforms of freight and express
depots had been swept clear of every obstacle,
and the usually encumbered Gare de I'Est was
clean and empty as the hand of man could
make it.

In the courtyard our party separated, prom-
ising to meet for the five o'clock express —
"Unless something serious prevents."

I accompanied H. to the Caserne des
Minimes where he went to see if his military
situation was registered up to date in his
livret, and all along the streets leading from
the station we met women silently wiping their
eyes.

What a sight the courtyard of that barracks
presented! Some five or six thousand men of
all ages, classes and conditions who up until
that moment had never thought that the loss
of a military book entailed the slightest conse-
quence, had one and all been pushed by that
single thought, "Be ready for duty." Here
they were, boys of twenty and men of forty,
standing in line, braving their all-time enemy,
the gendarme, each silently waiting his turn
to explain his situation. To the credit of
[24]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the gendarme and all those in authority, it
must be said that contrary to their usual custom
they acted like loving fathers with these prodi-
gal sons of the Republic — giving all possible
information without the sign of a grumble,
and advising those who were still streaming in
at the door to come back towards five o'clock,
when the hne should have advanced a little. It
was then scarcely ten A. M. !

H. had finished in no time.

"All I've got to do is to go home and wait
until I am called for," he explained as we
walked away at a brisk gait.

Like most country people when they come
to town I had numerous errands to do, so we
set off towards the Bazar de VHotel de Ville,
renowned for its farming implements.

At the corner of the Rue des Archives we
met Monsieur Gauthier on his way to his
Museum.

''Grave — tres grave — la situation ^ Mon-
sieur f^ was all he could say.

"What would you advise us to do?"

"Well, to speak plainly, I should advise you
to shut up the chateau, leave a guardian, and
open your Paris apartment. You're in the
[25]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

east, you know! I shall go down by the five
train and bring back Elizabeth and the chil-
dren. I'd be easier in my mind if I knew they
were in a big city! If you have to leave,
Madame Huard would be better off here."

H. was very sober as we left Mr. Gauthier.

"Bah! Cheer up! I'm afraid our friend is
an alarmist. You know he has two young
children !"

We entered the Bazar, which is the "big-
gest" of the big stores in Paris. Every day in
the week, and Sundays included, it is usually
so crowded with buyers and sellers that one
has to elbow one's way, and literally serve one's
self. To our amazement it was empty — liter-
ally empty. Not a single customer — not a
single clerk to be seen. The long stretches
of floor and counters were vacant as
though the store were closed. I gasped
a little in surprise and just as I did so
a female voice from behind a distant desk
called out:

"What is your pleasure, Madame?"

I turned, and a little woman in black ad-
vanced towards me.

"Yes, I know the place looks queer, but you
[26]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

see all our clerks are young men and everyone
of them has been obliged to join his regiment
since closing time last evening!"

"Leave farming alone and come over to
Conard's. He's bound to have some news,"
said H. impatiently.

Conard's is a big publishing firm on the
boulevard, renowned as a meeting place for
most of the well-known political men.

Conard greeted us in silence. He knew no
more than we, and we fell to talking of the
latest events and trying to come to a conclu-
sion. Then one of the habitues stepped in.

^^Eh hien. Monsieur, what news?"

The person addressed kept on perusing the
titles of the books spread along the counter,
and drawing a long puff from his cigarette
and without lifting his eyes, said, "The mobi-
lisation is for four o'clock! Official. Have
you something entertaining to read on my way
to the front?"

''Whatr

"Yes, gentlemen."

"War?"

"It looks very much like it !"

Though almost expected, the news gave us
[27]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

a thrill. We stood spellbound and tongue-
tied.

What to do? There were so many decisions
to be made at a moment's notice! H. was
for our coming to Paris, as all the men must
necessarily leave the chateau.

"Mobilisation doesn't necessarily mean war,
man. Besides if it does come it can't last long.
You'd better go back to your place in the
country, Huard. A big estate like that needs
looking after," said Conard.

"Where do you live?" questioned the gentle-
man who had given us the news.

"Villiers — sixty miles east of Paris."

"Well, if you decide to go there I advise
you to take the soonest train. The eastern
railway belongs to the army, and only the
army, beginning at noon to-day."

H. looked at his watch. It was nearly
eleven, and our next train left at noon sharp.
We jumped into a taxi.

"Drive to the Gare de I'Est and on the way
stop at Tarides! We must have maps, good
road maps of the entire north and east," said
H., turning to me.

It seemed as though he had had that thought
[28]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

in common with the entire Parisian popula-
tion, for all down the boulevards the book-
shops and stationers were already overflowing
with men, chiefly in regimentals, and as to the
shoe-shops and boot-makers, — there was a line
waiting outside of each. Yet there was no
excitement, no shouting, not even an "extra."

What a different sight our station presented
to that of two hours before! The great iron
gates were shut, and guarded by a line of
ser gents de ville. Only men joining their
regiments and persons returning to their le-
gitimate dwellings were allowed to pass. And
there were thousands of both. Around the
grillwork hovered dense groups of women,
bravely waving tearless adieux to their men-
folk.

After assuring himself that there was still
a noon train, H. led me to the restaurant
directly opposite the station.

"We'll have a bite here. Heaven knows
what time we shall reach home!"

The room was filled to overflowing; the

lunchers being mostly officers. At the table

on our right sat a young fellow whose military

harnessings were very new and very stiff, but

[29]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

in spite of the heat, a high collar and all his
trappings he managed to put away a very
comfortable repast.

On our left was a party composed of a
captain, his wife and two other freres d'armes.
That brave little Parisian woman at once
won my admiration, for though, in spite
of superhuman efforts, the tears would trickle
down her face, she never gave in one second
to her emotion but played her part as hostess,
trying her best to put her guests at ease and
smilingly inquiring after their family and
friends as though she were receiving under
ordinary circumstances in her own home.

At a quarter before noon we left them and
elbowed our way through the ever-gathering
crowd towards our train.

"The twelve o'clock express — what plat-
form?" H. enquired.

"The ten o'clock train hasn't gone yet.
Monsieur!"

"Is there any danger of its not going?"

"Oh, no; but there's every danger of its
being the last."

And the man spoke the truth, for as our
friend the politician predicted, at noon military
[30]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

authority took over the station and all those
who were so unfortunate as to have been left
behind were obliged to wait in Paris three
mortal weeks. On the Eastern Railway all
passenger service was immediately sacrificed
to the transportation of troops.

It seems to me that this was the longest
train I have ever seen. The coaches stretched
far out beyond the station into torrid sun-
light. Every carriage was filled up to and
beyond its normal capacity. There could be
no question of what class one would travel —
it was travel where one could! Yet no one
seemed to mind. I managed to find a seat in
a compartment already occupied by two young
St. Cyr students in full uniform and white
gloves, a very portly aged couple and half a
dozen men of the working classes.

"We'll take turns at sitting, Monsieur," said
one of them as H. pushed further on into the
corridor.

At the end of five minutes' time the conver-
sation had become general. Although as yet
there had been no official declaration everyone
present was convinced that the news would
shortly be made public, and though the crowd
[31]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

•

was certainly not a merry one, it was certainly
not sad. Most of the men had received their
orders in the morning, and had said good-bye
to their loved ones at home. In consequence,
there were no heart-rending scenes of farewell,
no tearful leave-takings from family and
friends, no useless manifestations.

Through the doorway of our stifling com-
partment, which up until the last moment was
left open for air, we could see the train on the
opposite platform silently, rapidly filling with
men, each carrying a new pair of shoes either
slung over the shoulders or neatly tied in a box
or paper parcel. Then without any warning,
without any hilarious vociferations on the part
of its occupants, it quietly drew out of the
station, to be instantly replaced by another
train of cars.

Five times we watched the same operation
recommence ere the ten o'clock train decided
to leave Paris. Then as the guard went along
the platform slamming the doors, a boyish face
poked its way into the aperture of our com-
partment.

"Hello, Louis," said he, addressing one of
the workmen. "Hello, Louis, you here, too!"
[32]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

''Eh hien, cette fois je crois qu'on y va!
Heinr

Our door closed and the trainman whistled.

''Bon voyager shouted the boy through the
window.

"The same to you," replied the other. That
was all.

It was not a very eventful journey. It
was merely hot and lengthy. We stopped at
every little way station either to let down or
take on passengers. We were side-tracked and
forgotten for what seemed hours at a time, to
allow speedy express trains filled with men
and bound for the eastern frontier to pass on
and be gone.

At Changis-St. Jean I put my head out of
the window and there witnessed a most touch-
ing sight. A youngish man in a well-fitting
captain's uniform, accompanied by his wife and
two pretty babies, was preparing to take his
leave. He was evidently well known and
esteemed in his little village, for the curate, the
mayor, the municipal council and numerous
friends had come to see him off. The couple
bore up bravely until the whistle blew — then,
clasping each other in an almost brutal em-
[33]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

brace, they parted, he to jump into the moving
train mid the shouts of well-wishers, and she,
her shoulders shaking with emotion, to return
to her empty home.

Four months later, almost to a day, I again
put my head out of the car window as we
stopped at Changis. Imagine my surprise on
seeing almost the same group! I recognized
the mayor, the curate and the others, and a
little shiver went down my back as I caught
sight of the pretty captain's wife — ^her eyes
red and swollen beneath the long widow's veil
that covered her face. That same hopeful little
assembly of August first had once again
gathered on the station platform to take pos-
session of and to conduct to their last resting-
place the mortal remains of their heroic
defunct.

Naturally, as they did not expect us before
six at the chateau, there was no carriage to
meet us.

"We'll take the hotel taxi as far as Charly
and from there we'll telephone home," said H.
as we got down from the train.

But there was neither hotel trap nor vehicle
of any description at the station. True it was
[34]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

that our train was nearly two hours late ! The
idea of walking some four miles in the broiling
sun was anything but amusing, but there
seemed to be nothing else to do. So after a
quarter of an hour uselessly spent in trying
to get a carriage somewhere about our lone-
some station, we started off on foot. We had
scarcely gone two hundred yards when we
caught sight of a Parisian taxi! H. hailed
him!

"What are you doing down JiereV

"I brought down a gentleman who was in a
hurry. You see there are no more trains out
of Paris on this line since noon! And there
are not likely to be any for some time to come."

"Will you take us as far as Charly?"

"If it's on the way to Paris — ^yes! I'm in
a hurry to get back. I've got to join my
regiment at the Gare du Nord before midnight,
but I'd like to ring in another job like this
before that. It's worth while at 150 per trip !"

"You've got to cross Charly — there's no
other way to Paris."

So we made our price and were whisked
into our little market-town.

The inhabitants were on their doorsteps or
[35]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

chatting in little groups, and we created quite
a sensation in our Parisian vehicle. H. went
to the Gendarmerie at once to see if there was
any official news by wire since we had left
town.

"You're the one who ought to bring us news,
Monsieur," said the brigadier, "What do they
say in Paris?"

"The mobilisation will be posted at four
o'clock."

A hearty peal of laughter, that was most
refreshing in the tension of the moment, burst
from all three gendarmes.

"Well, it's five minutes of four now. And
if what you say is so, I should think we'd know
something about it by this time ! Don't worry.
It's not so bad as you fancy."

H. shook hands and we left. At the hotel
we got the chateau on the wire and asked for
the victoria at once. As the horse had to be
harnessed and there is a two-mile drive down
to Charly, we stopped a moment and spoke to
the proprietress of the hotel.

"How does it happen that your motor was
not at the station?" said H.

"Oh," she replied, "our officers hired it early
[36]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

this morning and my husband had to drive
them post-haste to Soissons. He hasn't got
back yet!"

Before going farther in my narrative I shall
say here, lest I forget it, that two of the sup-
posed officers were caught within the fortnight
and shot at Meaux as German spies — the third
managed to make his escape.

Hearing the carriage coming down the hill,
we walked towards the doorway. At that same
moment we saw the white-trousered gendarme
hastening towards the town hall. Catching
sight of H., he held up the sealed envelope he
held in his hand, and shouted, "You were right,
Monsieur. It has come!"

We jumped into the victoria, but as we
crossed the square the garde-cJiampetre caught
the bridle and stopped our turnout.

"One moment. Monsieur."

Then the town-crier appeared, instantly
causing the straggling groups to cluster into
one. He had no need to ring his bell. He
merely lifted his hand and obtained instant
silence, and then slowly read out in deep,
solemn, measured tones, which I shall never
forget until my dying day:
[37]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

''Extreme urgence, Ordre de mobilisation
generale, Le premier jour de la mobilisation
est le dimanche deuce aout!"

That was all! It was enough! The tension
of those last two days was broken. No matter
what the news, it was a relief. And we drove
away 'mid the rising hum of hundreds of
tongues, loosened after the agonising suspense.

The news had not yet reached Villiers when
we drove through the village street. We
turned into the chateau and found Elizabeth
Gauthier, her children and almost all the ser-
vants, grouped near the entrance hall. They
looked towards us with an appealing gaze.

As H. opened his mouth to answer, the sharp
pealing of the tocsin, such as it rings only
in cases of great emergency, followed by the
rolling of the drum, told them better than we
could that the worst had come.

The servants retired in silence and still the
bell rang on. Presently we could hear the
clicking of the sabots on the hard road as the
peasants hurried from the fields towards the
Mairie,

I can see us all now, standing there in the
brilliant afternoon sunlight — Elizabeth mur-
[38]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

muring between her sobs, "O God, don't take
my husband!" httle Jules cHnging to her skirts,
amazed at her distress, and happy, hght-
hearted, curly-headed baby Colette, chasing
butterflies on the lawn in front of us!

[39]

II

August first.

The tocsin ceased, but the drum rolled on.
In a moment we had recovered from the first
shock, and all went out to the highroad to hear
the declaration. To H. and me it was already
a thing of the past, but we wanted to see how
the peasants would take it.

At Villiers as at Charly, it was the garde-
champetre who was charged with this solemn
mission, and the old man made a most pathetic
figure as he stood there with his drumsticks in
his hand, his spectacles pushed back, and the
perspiration rolling down his tanned and
withered cheeks.

"What have you got to say?" queried one
woman, who was too impatient to wait until
all had assembled.

^'Rien de bon — '' was the philosophic reply,
and our friend proceeded to clear his throat
and make his announcement.

It was received in dead silence. Not a mur-
[40]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

mur, not a comment rose from the crowd, as
the groups dispersed, and each one returned
to his lodgings.

We followed suit, and I went with H. to-
wards the servants' hall.

"Give me the keys to the wine cellar," said
he. "And, Nini," he continued, addressing my
youngest maid, aged ten, "Nini, lay a cloth and
bring out the champagne glasses. The boys
shan't go without a last joyful toast."

There were four of them; four of them
whose military books ordered them to reach
the nearest railway station, with two days'
rations, as soon as possible after the declara-
tion of mobilisation. H. had hardly time to
bring up the champagne before we could hear
the men clattering down the stairs from their
rooms. Their luggage was quickly packed —
a change of underclothes and a second pair of
shoes composed their trousseaux — and Julie
came hurrying forward with bread, sausages
and chocolate! "Put this into your bags," she
said. Though no one had told them, all those
who remained seemed to have guessed what to
do, for in like manner George, one of the
younger gardeners, had hitched the horses to
[41]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

the farm-cart and drove up to the kitchen
entrance.

A moment later Catherine called me aside
and tearfully begged permission to accompany
husband and brother as far as Paris. The
circumstances were too serious to refuse such
a request and I nodded my assent.

"Come on, boys," shouted H. "Ring the
farm-bell, Nini, and call the others in."

Their faces radiant with excitement, they
gathered around the long table. H. filled up
the glasses and then raising his —

"Here's to France, and to your safe return!"
said he.

"To France, and our safe return!" they
echoed.

We all touched glasses and the frothy amber
liquid disappeared as by magic. Then fol-
lowed a hearty handshaking and they all piled
into the little cart. George cracked the whip
and in a moment they had turned the corner
and were gone.

Gone — gone forever — for in the long months
that followed how often did I recall that joyful
toast, and now, a year later, as I write these
lines, I know for certain that none of them
will ever make that "safe return."
[42]

MY HOME IN TIJE FIELD OF HONOUR

Elizabeth Gauthier bore up wonderfully
under the strain. She was the first to admit
that after all it would have been too trying to
say good-bye to her husband. H. and I then
decided that it was best for her to bring her
children and maid and come over to the chateau
where we would share our lot in common.
There was no time for lamenting — for the
sudden disappearance of cook, butler, and the
three most important farm-hands, left a very
large breach which had to be filled at once.
There was nothing to do but to "double up,"
and the girls and women willingly offered to
do their best.

Julie, the only person over thirty, offered to
take over the kitchen. To George and Leon
fell the gardens, the stables, the horses, dogs,
pigs and cattle. Yvonne, aged seventeen,
offered to milk the cows, make butter and
cheese, look after the chickens and my duck-
farm, while Berthe and Nini, aged fourteen
and ten, were left to take care of the chateau!
Not a very brilliant equipment to run as large
an establishment as ours, but all so willing and
so full of good humour that things were less
neglected than one might imagine.
[43]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

The excitement of the day had been such
that after a very hasty meal we retired ex-
hausted at an early hour. The night was still
— SO still that though four miles from the sta-
tion we could hear the roar of the trains as
they passed along the river front.

"Hark!" said H. "How close together they
are running!"

We timed them. Scarcely a minute between
each. Then, our ears becoming accustomed,
we were soon able to distinguish the passenger
from the freight trains, as well as the empty
ones returning to Paris.

"Listen ! Those last two were for the troops !
That one is for the ammunition. Oh, what a
heavy one ! It must be for the artillery !" And
we fell asleep before the noise ceased. Indeed
for three long weeks there was no end to it, as
night and day the Eastern Railway rushed its
human freight towards the Eastern frontier.

Sunday morning, August second, found us
all at our posts as the sun rose. Elizabeth and
I drove down to Charly for eight o'clock mass,
and all along the road met men and boys on
their way to the station. The church was full,
[44]

Ite-

¥

AT THE ENTRANCE TO EVERY LITTLE VILLAGE WE
WERE OBLIGED TO HALT [Page 56]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

but there were only women and elderly men
in the assembly; why, we knew but too well,
and many wives and mothers had come there to.
hide their grief. Our curate was a very old
man, and the news had given him such a shock
that he was miable to say a word after reaching
the pulpit and stood there, tongue-tied, with
the tears streaming down his face for nearly
five minutes — finally retiring without uttering
a sound. Not exactly the most fortunate thing
that could have happened, for his attitude en-
couraged others to give way to their emotions,
and there was a most impressive silence fol-
lowed by much sniffling and nose-blowing ! All
seemed better, though, after the shower, and
the congregation disbanded with a certain sense
of relief.

Before leaving home H. told me to seek out
the grocer, and to lay in a stock of everything
she dispensed.

"You see," said he, "we're now cut off from
all resources. There are no big cities where we
can get supplies, within driving reach, and our
grocers will have nothing to sell once their
stock is exhausted. We're living in the hope
that the mobilisation will last three weeks.
• [45]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

What will you do if it lasts longer? It never
hurts to have a supply on hand!"

"All my salt, sugar and gasoline has been
put aside for the army. I was ordered to do
that this morning — but come around to the
back door and I'll see what I can do for you,"
said my amiable grocery-woman.

"That's pleasant," thought I. "No gaso-
line— no motor — no electricity! Privation is
beginning early. But why grumble! We'll
go to bed with the chickens and won't miss
it!"

Madame Leger and I made out a long list of
groceries and household necessities, and she set
to work weighing and packing, and finally
began piling the bundles into the trap drawn
up close to her side door.

Our dear old Cesar must have been surprised
by the load he had to carry home, but Elizabeth
and I decided that a "bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush," and one never could tell what
astonishing "order" to-morrow might bring
forth.

How H. laughed when he saw us driving up
the avenue.

"I didn't think you'd take me so literally,"
[46]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

said he. "Why, war isn't even declared, and
here we are preparing for a siege!"

"Never mind," I returned, "you must re-
member that there are twelve persons to feed,
and we'll soon get away with all I've got here."

The afternoon was spent in arranging our
apartments. For convenience sake, we decided
to close part of the chateau and all live as near
together as possible in one wing. The children
and younger servants seemed to consider the
whole as a huge joke — or rather, a prolonged
picnic party, and the house rang with peals of
jolly laughter.

Monday, the third, Elizabeth and I tackled
the provisions which were piled high on the
table in the servants' hall. A visit to the store-
room and a little calculation showed that there
were sufficient groceries already on hand to
last the month out.

"Very good," said I. "Now, the rest we'll
divide into three even parts — that makes Sep-
tember, October and November assured. By
that time we'll know what precautions to take !"

"Well, I should hope so!" came the smiling
reply. And we set to work. It all recalled the
days of my childhood when I used to play at
[47]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

housekeeping and would measure out on the
scales of my dolls' house so much rice, so much
flour, so much maccaroni, etc. I could hardly
believe I was in earnest.

We were right in the midst of our task when
our gardeners appeared bearing between them
a clothes basket full of plums.

"Madame, they can't wait a day longer.
They're ready to cook now."

It was almost a disagreeable surprise, for
we were already as busy as we could be. But
there was no way of waiting, or the fruit would
be spoiled.

"Is that all the plums?"

"Ah, no, Madame, there are fully two bas-
kets more. And in a day or two the black-
berries and black currants must be picked or
they'll rot on the vines."

"Heaven preserve us !" thought I. "Will we
ever come to the end of it all!" But by four
o'clock the first basket of plums was stoned,
the sugar weighed, and a huge copper basin
of confiture was merrily boiling on the stove.

"Where are you going to hide your pro-
visions now you've got them so beautifully tied
up?" enquired H., his eyes twinkling.
[48]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Hide them?"

"Yes!"

"What for?"

"In case of invasion."

We all simply shook with laughter.

"Well, if the Germans ever reach here there
won't be much hope for us all," I returned.

"No, but joking aside; suppose we suddenly
get the French troops quartered on us, are you
calmly going to produce your stock, let it be
devoured in a day or so, and remain empty-
handed when they depart? You see, it isn't the
little fellows who'll suffer. A big place like this
with all its rooms and its stables is just the spot
for a camp!"

That idea had never dawned upon us, and we
set to thinking where we could securely hide
our groceries in three different places. Finally
it was agreed that one part should be put back
of the piles of sheets in the linen closet; the
second part hidden on the top shelf of a very
high cupboard in my dressing-room with toilet
articles grouped in front of it; while the third
was carried up a tiny flight of stairs to the
attic and there pushed through a small opening
into the dark space that leads to the beams
[49]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

and rafters. It was all so infantile that we
clapped our hands and were as happy as kings
when we had discovered such a good cachette.

Night was coming on as I stood pouring the
last of the plum jam into the glasses lined up
along the kitchen table. Berthe had counted
nearly a hundred, and I was seriously think-
ing of adopting jam-making as a profession,
when with much noise and trmnpeting, a closed
auto whisked up the avenue and stopped before
the entrance. I hurried to the kitchen door,
untying m}^ apron as I ran, arriving just as
an officer jumped from the motor, and before
I had time to recognise him in his new uniform.
Captain Gauthier rushed forward, exclaiming:

"I've come to fetch Elizabeth and the chil-
dren!"

The others, too, had heard the motor, and
in an instant there was quite an assembly in
the courtyard.

"I had great difficulty leaving Paris at all.
My passport is only good until midnight," the
captain was explaining as his wife and H.
appeared, and almost without time for greet-
ing— "Make haste," he continued, turning to
Madame Gauthier. "We must be off in a
[50]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

quarter of an hour, or our machine will never
reach town on time."

I hurried with Elizabeth to her apartment,
where we woke and dressed two very aston-
ished children, while the little maid literally
threw the toilet necessities and a few clothes
into a huge Gladstone bag.

"Leon evidently doesn't think us safe down
here! You'd better come, too," murmured
Elizabeth as we went downstairs.

In the meantime, H. had questioned our
friend as to what had transpired in Paris within
the last twenty-foui' hours.

"England will probably join us — and there
is every possibility of Italy's remaining
neutral," he announced, as we made our ap-
pearance. And then — "You must come to
Paris. You're too near the front here," he
continued, as he piled wife, babies and servant
into the taxi.

And so, with hardly time for an adieu, the
motor whisked away as it had come, leaving
H. and me looking beyond it into the night.

When I returned to the pantry, I found Nini
weeping copiously. Imagining she had become
frightened by the sudden departure of our
[51]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

friends, I was collecting my wits to console
and reassure her, when she burst forth, "Oh,
Madame — Madame — the pates — ^'

"Well?"

"The lovely pates! — all burned to cinders!
Such a waste!"

In our excitement we had forgotten to take
from the oven two handsome pates de lievre
of which I was more than duly proud. And as
Nini expressed it, they were burned to cinders.
How H. chuckled at our first domestic
mishap.

"Fine cooks, you are," said he, turning to
Berthe and Nini, who hung their heads and
blushed crimson. "And it's to you that I'm
going to entrust Madame when I leave!"

Tuesday, the fourth, the drum rolled at an
early hour and the gar de-champ etre announced
the declaration of war. It was not news to
anyone, for all had considered the mobilisation
as the real thing.

We were breakfasting when we heard a
strange rumbling up the road. It was such a
funny noise — midway between that of a steam
roller and a threshing machine — that we both
went out towards the lodge to see what was
[52]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

passing by. We were not a little surprised on
perceiving our gendarmes sitting in an anti-
quated motor, whose puffing and wheezing be-
tokened its age. They stopped when they saw
us, and after exchanging greetings, laughingly
poked fun at their vehicle — far less imposing
than their well-groomed horses, but the only
thing that could cover between seventy and
eighty miles a day! From them we learned
that the mobilisation was being carried out in
perfection, and in all their tours to outlying
villages and hamlets not a single delinquent
had been found — not a single man was miss-
ing! All had willingly answered the call to
arms!

Between the excitement and all the work
that had to be done at Villiers, time passed
with phenomenal rapidity. As yet we had
had no occasion to perceive the lack of mail
and daily papers, and though I had always
had a sub-conscious feeling that H. would
eventually receive his marching orders, it was
rather a shock when they came. Being in a
frontier department he was called out earlier
than expected. And instead of being sent
around-circuit way to reach his regiment south
[58]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

of Paris, he was ordered to gain Chateau-
Thierry at once, and there await instructions.

Of course I packed and unpacked his bag
for the twentieth time since Sunday, in the
hope of finding a tiny space to squeeze in one
more useful article — and then descending, I
jumped into the cart and waited for him to
join me. In spite of the solemnity of the
moment I couldn't help laughing when he ap-
peared, for disdaining the immaculate costume
I had carefully laid out, he had put on a most
disreputable-looking pair of trousers, and an
old paint-stained Norfolk jacket. A faded
flannel shirt and a silk bandanna tied about his
throat completed this weird accoutrement,
which was topped by a long-vizored cap and a
dilapidated canvas gunny sack, the latter but
half full and slung lightly over one shoulder.
Anticipating my question, he explained that it
was useless to throw away a perfectly new suit
of clothes. When he should receive his uni-
form, his civilian outfit ought to be put in safe
keeping for his return. This was customary in
time of peace, but who could tell? — he might
never even get a uniform, let alone hoping to
see the clothes again.

[54]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

And then, when I began examining the
paltry contents of his sack, he made light of
my disappointment, saying that his father, who
had served in the campaign of 1870, had always
told him that a ball of strong string and a
jackknife were sufficient baggage for any
soldier. I supposed he ought to know, and
was just going to ask another question, when —

"Listen," he said, as he put his foot on the
step. "Listen — before I forget. My will is
at my notary's in Paris, and on your table is a
letter to your father — if anything happens to
me you know what to do."

We drove away in silence.

I let the horses walk almost all the way home
and my thoughts were busy, very busy along
the way. Here I was alone — husband and
friends had vanished as by magic. My nearest
relatives over five thousand miles away — and
communication with the outside world entirely
cut off, for Heaven knew how long. Evi-
dently there was nothing to do but to face the
situation, especially as all those in my employ
save Julie were under twenty, and looked to
me for moral support. This was no time to
[55]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

collapse. If I broke down anarchy would reign
at once.

But what to do? Go on living like a hermit
on that great big estate? The idea appalled
me. It seemed such a useless existence — and
in a few moments' time I had decided to turn
the place into a hospital. But how and to
whom should I offer it?

I stopped at the Gendarmerie, where our
friends were able to give me information.

"The nearest sanitary formation was Sois-
sons — the Red Cross Society. The president
would probably be able to help me — " So I
thanked the gendarme and left there, having
decided to drive thence on the morrow.

Soissons is but twenty miles as a bird flies,
but almost double that by the winding road-
way, and I was calculating what time I should
start and where I would rest the span, as I
entered the yard.

"Anything new, George?" I said, as he took
the bridle.

"Nothing, Madame, save that we have re-
ceived orders that all the horses must be pre-
sented at Chateau-Thierry for the revision
to-morrow before ten."

[56]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

"All the horses?"

"Yes, Madame, with full harnessing, halters
and the farm carts."

That was a surprise! Suppose they are all
taken, thought I, I shall be almost a prisoner.
And my trip to Soissons?

"Don't unharness!" I called, as George
drove towards the stable. "I'm going back to
Charly."

In our little township I managed to buy a
lady's bicycle. "It may come in handy," I
thought. It was the last machine that was left.
From the shop I went to the hotel.

"Where's your husband?" I said to the pro-
prietress.

"Why, he's gone with the chauffeur to take
our motorbuses and taxi to the requisition com-
mittee."

"What?"

"Yes, Madame."

"But I wanted him to motor me over to
Soissons to-morrow!"

"Well, if he gets back to-night and they
leave him a single machine, I'll let you know,
Madame."

In the afternoon the drum beat anew and I
[57]

MY HOME IN THE PIELD OF HONOUR

learned that all the bakers in the village (there
were three of them) having been called to the
front, we were likely to be without the staff of
life. In the presence, therefore, of the im-
pending calamity, the village government had
decided to take over the bakery — it had found
an old man and a very young apprentice who
would do the work, but each citizen was re-
quested to declare the number of persons com-
posing his household and in order to economize
flour, so much bread would be allowed per head
and each family must come and fetch his supply
at the town hall between eleven and twelve
o'clock !

Needless to say, it must be paid for in cash,
though the Board reserved the right to look
after the village poor. In like manner, all the
salt had been reserved for the army, and we
were to be rationed to seventy-five grammes a
week per person! It all sounded rather ter-
rible, but when put into practise it was proved
that the rations were very generous and no
one had reason to complain.

By four o'clock the next morning there was
a perpetual stream of farm carts down the
road leading towards Chateau-Thierry. I
[58]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

dressed and went to the stables where George
and Leon were already harnessing. More than
once I had a tight feeling in my throat as I
patted the glossy backs of dear old Cesar and
my lovely span.

The girls had decorated the carts with huge
bunches of poppies, daisies and corn-flowers
and in addition to these tri-color bouquets, a
little branch of laurel was stuck up over each
horse's bridle. There was a generous distri-
bution of sugar, and each horse was kissed on
the tip of his nose, and then the boys joined
the procession on the highroad.

I watched them out of sight. "Shall we ever
get through saying 'good-bye'? When will
these departures cease?" thought I, as I turned
from the gate. But I was given no time to
muse, for a most amazing clamor arose from
a gateway a little higher up the road, and
glancing in that direction, I saw old father
Poupard leading his horse and cart into the
open. He was followed by his wife and
daughter-in-law, two brawny peasant women,
who were loudly lamenting the departure of
their steed!

"No, no!" literally howled mother Poupard.
[59]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"This is the last straw! Both sons gone, and
now our horse! Who's going to bring in our
crop? The Lord is unjust."

"And brother's babies — poor motherless
things — in an orphan asylum at Epernay!
How can we get to them now? Oh, no! Oh,
no — " wailed Julia.

"Poupard!" exclaimed his wife, drying her
tears on the corner of her apron and fixing her
sharp blue eyes on her husband, "Poupard, no
loitering! If they pay you for your horse,
remember, no f olishness. You hustle back here
with the money — we need you to help in the
vineyard."

"This is no time for sprees," wept Julia.

"Father Poupard," admonished his irate
mate, brandishing a spade, "Father Poupard,
mind what I say!"

And then in a more moderate tone, but
which was distinctly audible some thirty yards
away, "I've put a bottle into your lunch basket.
You won't need to buy anything more."

There was a distinct emphasis on the word

buy, which told me that mother Poupard,

evidently accustomed to her husband's ways,

had provided plentifully for his journey but

[60]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

had carefully emptied his pockets before he
started.

I went back to my preserves, but as the day
wore on the lack of all communication with the
outside world began to prey on me. Towards
four o'clock I took my bicycle and started
down to Charly. A quarter of a mile from
our gate, in front of the town hall, a mason
had driven two huge posts into the ground on
either side of the road, and was swinging a
heavy chain between them.

I looked askance at the schoolmaster who
stood in the doorway surveying the work. He
explained that he had received instructions to
the effect that all passers-by unknown to this
village were to be stopped and asked for their
papers. The men and boys who remained were
to take turns mountin'g guard, and thus to
help to eradicate the circulation of spies. Two
suspicious motors and a man on a bicycle had
already been signalled. Should they appear
and fail to produce their papers, immediate
arrest would follow. Should they offer the
slightest opposition or attempt escape, the sen-
tinels had orders to shoot.

I enquired if it would be necessary for me
[61]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

to have a sauf -conduit, being bound for Charly,
and possibly the station at Nogent, where I
hoped that the soldiers of a passing train would
throw me a newspaper.

Mr. Duguey replied that he would gladly
present me with the first passport, and seemed
wonderfully taken with my idea about the
papers. He admitted that living in darkness
was beginning to get on his nerves, too, and
asked me, in case my plan should prove suc-
cessful, if I would be willing to put it on the
public sign board so all could see the news. I
acquiesced willingly, and after he had asked a
few questions as to names, age, characteristics
and destination, he stamped the seal on my
paper, and I departed.

At Charly the same preparations had been
made, and two elderly men, leaning on their
guns, smiled as I presented my paper for their
inspection.

At the hotel, the proprietor had just re-
turned after having waited nearly twenty-four
hours in line to present his machines. All
save one had been bought for the army. But
with his double-seated taxi he promised to drive
me to Soissons the following morning.
[62]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I continued my road, and reached Nogent
to find that I was not alone in my idea about
begging the papers. Several others from
neighboring villages, so I heard, had already
succeeded in obtaining a sheet, and had driven
off hastily with their trophies. My proceeding
was very simple. It consisted of crossing the
rails to the up-train platform, to stand in line
with the other women already assembled, there
to wait like birds on a fence until a train coming
from Paris passed by. Then as it whizzed
through the station, we shouted in chorus, ''Les
journauoc! Les jour-nauoor

It worked like magic. We had hardly been
there two minutes when a train was signalled.
As it approached, we could see that engine
and cars were decorated with garlands of
flowers, and trailing vines, while such inscrip-
tions as, ''Train de Plaisir pour Berlin" and
numerous caricatures had been chalked on the
varnished sides of the carriages.

Our appeals were not in vain. With joyful
shouts, the boys gladly threw us the papers
which were welcomed like the rain of manna
in the desert. I managed to collect two,
U Action Franfoise, and Le Bonnet Rouge,
[63]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Until others and fresher were procured, the
Royahst and the Revolutionary sheets hung
side by side on the public sign board at Villiers,
proving that under the Third Republic,
Liberie, Egalite, Fraternite are not vain words.

The news of the violation of Luxembourg
and Belgian territory created less sensation
than one might have expected. In the circum-
stances news of any kind seemed a blessing.

There was still quite a gathering in front of
the town hall when the first carts began to
return from the revision. They were few and
far between, compared with the double line that
had driven past in the morning. My heart
leapt with joy, as I saw George, driving Cesar,
turn into the court.

"Too old, Madame," he said, his eyes shin-
ing. "Though still so game that they nearly
kept him. He's reserved for a second call."

"And Florentin and Cognac?"

The boy put his hand into his pocket and
held out a shp of paper. I took it and read,
^'Bon pour 1^00 francs, prix de 2 chevauoo,
etcr

"Well, thank God, we've got one left any-
how," thought I as I entered the hall.
[64]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Just then the gate creaked and I could
vaguely distinguish in the deepening twilight
the forms of mother Poupard and Julia hurry-
ing towards the stables. I followed.

"George! George !" called Julia.

"Well?" came the answer from within.

"George — where's the old man?" queried
mother Poupard in excited tones.

"How do I know?"

"Was our horse taken? Can you tell us
that?"

"I think so; yes."

"Then why didn't Poupard come back with
you and Leon in the cart? Did you see him?

"Yes."

"Where was he?"

"In front of a cafe — as we drove past."

"Oh, the old villain! The wretch! Oh, mon
Dieu, what shall we do! Oh, the wicked old
man — if I had him here, I'd thrash him
good!"

And mother Poupard began brandishing a
pitch-fork with such violence that I commenced
to fear that failing her delinquent spouse, she
would fall upon George to wreak vengeance.

"Oh, the old devil! Oh—"
[65]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Look here, I'm not his nurse — ^now clear
out, the lot of you!"

The injunction served its purpose, for re-
membering they were "not at home," the two
women retired in high dudgeon, wailing and
lamenting in such audible tones that their
neighbours came out to see what was the
matter, and laughed at mother Poupard's
threat of what she would do if ever she got
le vieuo) into her clutches.

By six A. M. on the Friday I had break-
fasted and was ready to leave for Soissons.
The taxi from the Hotel du Balcon made its
appearance a few moments later, and after a
visit to the town hall, where we secured the
necessary passports, we set off on our journey.

At the entrance to every little village we
were obliged to halt and exhibit our papers —
after which formality the chain would be let
down and we allowed to go our way.

Half an hour later as we crossed Chateau-
Thierry we could see the rows of horses that
had not yet been examined lined up along the
square. The commissaries had worked all
night and their task was still far from fin-
ished.

[66]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Until we reached Oulchy-le-Chateau, the
chains were the only outward signs that be-
tokened the belligerent state of the country,
and even then as those who mounted guard
were not in uniform, it seemed rather as though
we were passing a series of toll-gates. How-
ever, as we ran along the splendid roads be-
tween the great fertile plains, I observed that
the harvesting was being done chiefly by
women, and that the roads themselves were
empty of any vehicle. Evidently only those
who had an important errand were allowed on
the routes nationales, thus kept clear for the
transport of troops or ammunition.

At Oulchy, half-way to Soissons, we halted
at a railway crossing to let a long, lazy train
drag out of the station. When at length the
bars were drawn up, much excitement reigned
on the little platform which we had been un-
able to see from the other side of the rails.
Young girls with pails and dippers in their
hands stood chattering with women in wrap-
pers, whose dishevelled appearance told plainly
that they had been hastily awakened and had
hurried thence without thinking of their
toilette,

[67]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"What is it?" I asked of the garde-harriere,

"Wounded!"

"Wounded?"

"Yes — the first. Not badly wounded and
they are able to travel, but unable to hold a gun.
And they were all so thirsty!"

Poor fellows, thought I, already out of the
ranks and the first week is not yet passed.

More persuaded than ever of the utility of
my mission, I did not stop longer but pushed
on towards Soissons. Half a mile further up
the road, an elderly man carrjdng a package,
hailed the motor. We slowed down, and hat
in hand he approached.

"I beg pardon for the liberty I'm taking,"
he said, "but might I ask where you're bound?"

"Soissons."

"You would be rendering a great service to
the municipality if you would allow me to ride
with you in the empty seat. You see, the
youngsters who are left to reap the crops have
broken the only machine in the community,
and we can't go on harvesting until it is re-
paired or replaced. There are no mechanics
left, and moreover, no horses that could take
us to Soissons to find one, so I've offered to go
[68]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

on foot — but that means at least two full days
lost before we can continue our work."

"Get in at once," I said, and we rolled off.

It was not long before I had drawn his his-
tory from this village alderman, an Alsatian
by birth, and his tales of the war of 1870
helped to wile away the time we were obliged
to spend idling along the roadside while our
chauffeur repaired our first puncture. The
emergency wheel clapped on, we were soon en
route again. My companion duly uncovered
as we passed the monument to the soldiers of
the Franco-Prussian War, almost hidden in a
lovely chestnut grove, in the heart of the forest
of Hartennes.

On the outskirts of Soissons we came upon a
squadron of the Ninth Territorial Regiment,
resting after the morning exercises. These
soldiers much resembled the "bushy-bearded"
creatures whom I had seen guarding the
Eastern Railway, save that they were even
more picturesque, for most of them wore straw
sombreros. As we passed the captain on his
horse, my companion lifted his hat and the
officer replied with a salute.

"A friend of yours?" I ventured.
[69]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"No. Never saw him before."

"But you bowed, I thought."

"Certainly. He's an officer on duty in time
of war, and all civilians owe him that courtesy."

I liked that and fancied it were old-time
urbanity, though often since I have seen it
proved that the custom is not obsolete.

A little further on we came to a very jolly
squadron, the cooks, who were peeling fresh
vegetables and pouring them into immense
wash-boilers, which, when filled, two privates
seized by the handles and carried towards a
big barracks some hundred yards distant.

Presently we hit a cobbled road which must
have been a joy to all heavy machines, but
which nearly jolted us out of our light vehicle.
Patience and good humour were very rapidly
disappearing when we rounded a curve, struck
the good macadam, and I saw the twin spires
of St. Jean rising majestically against the
clear blue summer sky.

At our right I noticed the entrance gate to
a chateau over which hung a big Red Cross,
such as I coveted for my home, and then in a
moment we were already in a faubourg of
Soissons. It was not unlike the entrance to
[70]

'•^ V

\ ^-

^ 1^ v^ "

WE DROVE THROUGH THE QUAINT LITTLE CITY
[Page 75]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

any other provincial city in ordinary times,
save that there were many red-trousered men
mixed in with the other population. There
were no chains across the road, but four soldiers
in uniform mounted guard. We showed patte
blanche and proceeded to ask for the Red
Cross headquarters.

* 'Madame Macherez is the president. You
must go to her. Cross the city and go out
east towards St. Paul. Her chateau is
there."

Naturally we headed straight for our desti-
nation, but were stopped every other minute
by police who side-tracked us into back streets.
The big thoroughfares must be kept clear for
the army!

I set down my old friend near the town hall,
and told him that I should be returning about
noon. If he were ready, I would be glad to
give him a lift. Would he meet us in front
of the Hotel du Soleil dfOr?

He was delighted, and promised to be on
time.

We crossed the Aisne; I must say rather
heedlessly, little dreaming that in so short a
time it would be the object of such desperate
[71]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

and bloody disputes — nor so historically
famous.

The Chateau de St. Paul sits, or rather, sat
back from the road, surrounded by its lovely
garden and a high wall. I left my motor and
entered the grounds, preceded by a servant
who had opened the gate. In a small drawing-
room I presented myself to a very charming
young person already installed behind a desk,
though it was scarcely half -past eight, and ex-
plained the object of my visit.

"Madame Macherez will be delighted. I'm
her secretary, and I can assure you she will do
all she can to further your plans. Would you
mind waiting just a few moments? She'll be
down presently. You see," she continued, "we
have been up all night. We suddenly had part
of a regiment quartered on us, and the officers
who slept here were coming and going most
of the time. I beg you will excuse the dust,
but they haven't been gone long enough for us
to make things tidy. There were twenty here,
and two hundred men in the outbuildings —
which makes quite a remue menage"

Just then the president of the Association
des Dames Franpaises came in.
[72]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Madame Macherez, a fine looking, elderly
woman with iron-grey hair and clear blue eyes,
is the widow of former Senator Macherez. Her
keen understanding and wonderful business
ability have won her the respect and esteem of
two entire nations; both friend and enemy are
united in their praises of this wonderful
person.

I was not long in explaining my intentions
— I could supply sixty beds, with room for
the double ; would take all the management of a
hospital, gladly help with the nursing, but must
have a doctor and other professional aid.

Madame Macherez accepted my proposition,
knew just the person I needed, and taking off
her badge pinned it on to the lapel of my coat
and made me a member of her society.

"Now, then, let's get through with the
formalities at once. Here is your carte
d'identite. You must paste your photo on to it.
With that and an armlet stamped from the
War Department you will have free access to
all the roads and you won't have to be bothered
with other papers. Let us go at once to the
city hall, where they will stamp their seal on
your card, which makes it valid for your iden-
[73]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

tity. From there we must himt out the colonel
in command and get his seal. That makes it
valid with military authorities."

The president's motor was waiting outside
the door.

"How long shall we be?"

"Ah, an hour at least."

I turned to my chauffeur who was tampering
with his punctured tire.

"Go and see if you can't find a new inner
tube, and meet me at the Hotel du Soleil dfOr
where I will lunch, at eleven."

"But I just put in a new inner tube."

"Have you got an extra one?"

"No, but I've my emergency wheel — "

"Never mind. Another inner tube may come
in handy."

"Very well, Madame."

Madame Macherez was waiting, so I jumped
in next her and we drove to the town hall.
Though the war was scarcely a week old her
office was already installed in the Hotel de
Ville, and several hospitals were well on the
way towards complete organization. In a big
room white-capped women (the first I had seen
of the kind) were counting bandages, linen
[74]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

and underclothing, laying out huge piles for
such and such a hospital.

While Madame M. was answering numerous
questions which besieged her on her entrance,
her secretary took note of what was lacking
in my amhnlance, promised to forward it at
once by motor, and gave me an agreement to
sign.

In the meantime, someone had carried my
card to the mayor who affixed his seal, and my
armlet appeared as though by magic.

Now, then, for the colonel! And we
hastened away again at a moment's notice.

As we drove through the quaint little city,
my eye was attracted more than once by a
splendid bit of Louis XIV architecture. The
college, the convent, the churches and even
some private residences were wonderful exam-
ples of that exquisitely decorative period. As
it was my first visit to Soissons I regretted
not having brought my kodak, but when I
spoke of this to Madame Macherez she ex-
pressed her delight at my admiration of her
native city, but was extremely glad that I had
not ventured out alone with a camera. Un-
known persons with photographic parapher-
[75]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

nalia were suspicious these times. It was best
to leave such things at home.

Just then we were winding up a narrow
street and the chauffeur was tooting in vain,
trying to persuade a half-dozen soldiers carry-
ing bales of hay on their backs, to make room
for us to get by. With much evident reluct-
ance the first man drew a bit to the right, the
second vociferated something in a picturesque
patois, and just as we passed the third, I
leaned forward and grabbed the driver by the
collar.

"Stop, stop a minute!" I gasped.

He must have thought I was mad, and
Madame M. probably imagined I had suddenly
lost my wits, when she saw me plunge out of
the motor, race towards one of the bales, tear
it from the carrier's back with a violence that
nearly upset the man, and then, throwing my
arms about his neck, embrace him.

''You? Already?" gasped H., and then as
we realized that we were making a public spec-
tacle of ourselves, the color rose to our
cheeks.

A hasty explanation followed, in which I
told my plans.

[76]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"And you, what on earth are you doing
here?" I questioned.

"Well — just what you see. All of us from
Villiers have been sent to bring horses to the
front, and a fine job it is. I wish you could
see the nags! None of them rideable!"

"But after they're delivered — what?"

"I wish I knew myself."

"And when can we meet?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible. We're off
again to-night for — God knows where!"

And H. seeing that he was already far be-
hind his companions, threw me a hasty adieu
and was gone !

The colonel was absent, but would return
tout de suite, and Madame Macherez and I
lost nearly an hour waiting. When he ap-
peared, however, he was most gracious, ex-
cused himself very politely and immediately
stamped my card. Then having all the neces-
sary papers, I begged Madame to drop me
at the hotel, and to return to her bureau,
where I knew there was work enough for a
half-dozen such as she. She did as I requested,
and we parted — she promising to visit Villiers
as soon as she could dispose of an afternoon.
[77]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I was the only woman in the hotel dining-
room for Imieheon. The food was good, but
the service impossible, as there were some forty
men, mostly officers, very hungry, and only
one decrepit waiter to do the work. Good
humour prevailed, each diner making allow-
ances, and here for the first time I heard that
expression, destined to become so popular as
an excuse for almost anything: C'est la
gueire!

My chauffeur kept me waiting, but my
friend the alderman was on time. Finally the
motor made its appearance. Something had
happened on leaving St. Paul in the morning
and the poor hotelier had searched the entire
city for a mechanic, but to no avail. All
were au service de Varmee, Finally he had
had to patch up things as best he could. As to
an extra inner tube — such a thing didn't exist.
We would have to take our chances with the
wheel he had.

We started, but hadn't gone two hundred
yards when a back tire blew off!

Well, thank goodness, we hadn't left town.
So I returned to the hotel, and while Huber-
son and the alderman were fixing up damages
[78]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

and adjusting the emergency wheel, I had
time to read all the back numbers of Illustra-
tion, which the Soleil d'Or possessed, and
commence a conversation with the proprietress,
who sat in the court shelling peas for dinner.
She was certain that the war would be over in
three months at the utmost !

At length I went out to see if I couldn't be
of some assistance in the motor business, but
Huberson said it would be ready in a few
moments. As far as I could make out, my
alderman friend was mostly a decorative per-
sonality, for he stood there with his hat on the
back of his head, gesticulating vehemently, but
never deigning to help my chauffeur in the
shghtest manner. When I asked him if he
knew Soissons well and inquired if he could
direct me to certain grocers where I could
perhaps obtain a few provisions, he insisted
on showing me the shops, with an alacrity
which proved his incompetence at motor
repairing.

During that short promenade on foot, we
encountered the whole Ninth Territorial Regi-
ment— not under arms but au repos. The
men were seated in front of the barracks read-
[79]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

ing the papers or idly smoking their pipes, and
all yearning for "something to do." Their
wish, I fear, has been more than satisfied.

Start number two proved successful and we
sped along very comfortably until we hit that
long cobbled road. The day was exceedingly
warm, the stones sun-baked, and after the first
mile or so I saw Huberson looking nervously
at his fore wheel. His anxiety was well
founded, for half a minute later, whizz! — I
could feel the rubber splitting!

We stopped and all climbed out.

"It's all up!" he exclaimed. "Not one — but
two tires are burst, and the shoe of the
emergency wheel is flapping like an old dirty
rag!"

"Now, in my time — " began the alderman.

"Never mind about your time, old man. If
you want to get back to Oulchy and that mow-
ing machine before Christmas, you've got to
pitch in and help," cut in Huberson, whose
nerves could no longer stand the strain. Our
friend took the hint and began stripping off his
coat. We were eight miles from Soissons, on
the upgrade of a cobbled road, full in the sun.
It was three P. M. on a stifling August day!
[80]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

The men must have spent an hour trying to
make impossible repairs — they knew it was no
use walking back to Soissons where aid had
already been refused, and it was evident from
the condition of the tubes that there was no
hope of mending them.

What to do?

"I'll tell you," said I (and I must admit
that I spoke for the sake of saying something) ,
"I'll tell you! Suppose you take out the inner
tubes and stuff the shoes with grass !"

The men looked at me as if I had suddenly
gone out of my mind. Their contempt was so
apparent that it wilted me.

"Yes — I'm serious."

And then arose a series of protestations
which common sense bade me heed, but which
didn't advance our cause in the slightest.
When we had lost a full half-^hour more
arguing the question, I once again proclaimed
my original idea.

The driver glanced at me in despair and
shrugged his shoulders. "The least we can
do is try."

So saying, we fell to work tearing up grass
and weeds. And that is how I came to ride
[81]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

over thirty miles on three grass-stuffed tires,
which, thanks to the heat, towards the end of
the journey began sending forth httle jets of
green Hquid much to the astonishment of all
those who saw us pass.

[82]

Ill

The next few days following my eventful
trip to Soissons were spent superintending the
installation of my hospital. For convenience's
sake I decided to utilize the entire ground floor,
first because there were fewer and more
spacious apartments, each one being large
enough to hold ten or twelve beds, thus form-
ing a ward ; second, because it would be better
to avoid carrying the wounded up a flight of
stairs. The rooms above could be used in case
of emergency. All this of course necessitated
the moving of most of my furniture and oh jets
d'art, as well as the emptying of H.'s much-
encumbered studio — I having determined to
keep but a small apartment in the east wing
for private use. It was really a tremendous
undertaking, far worse than any "spring clean-
ing" I had ever experienced, especially as I
was but poorly seconded by my much-depleted
domestic staff, already more than busy trying
to keep the farm going.

From the boys — George and Leon — I
[83]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

learned that old father Poupard had not yet
put in his appearance since his departure three
days before with his nag, and that mother
Poupard had abandoned her belligerent atti-
tude and had resorted to tears. She could be
seen three times a day, on her return from the
fields, standing by the bridge corner, wailing
her distress to any passerby who had time
enough to stop and listen. Poupard now pos-
sessed all the qualities of mankind and it was
probably through his noble soft-heartedness
that some ill had befallen him. What a mis-
fortune, especially as the vines needed so much
attention.

Sunday, the ninth, I was preparing to go
to early service at Charly (our own curate
had been called to join his regiment) when on
crossing the bridge, a bicycle whisked by the
victoria.

"He's coming — he's coming!" called the
rider, as he passed us.

"Who?" I said, rising, as George drew up.

"Father Poupard!" called the boy. "I'm
going to tell his wife !"

It was evident that the news had spread like
wildfire, for looking up the street, I could see
[84]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the villagers hurrying from their cottages. Al-
ready the hum of voices reached my ears, and
anxious not to miss what promised to be a
most dramatic meeting, I told George to drive
to one side of the road and stop, and there we
would await developments.

In less than a minute mother Poupard
appeared. She was as good as her word, for
now that she knew her lord and master was
no longer in danger, she had cast sentiment to
the winds and was actually brandishing that
"big stick!"

"Ah, the good-for-nothing old drunkard!"
she vociferated as she ran. "Just let me lay
hands on him!"

Around the bend of the road came the ex-
cited peasants. They pressed so closely about
someone that until they were almost upon us
I could not distinguish who it might be. Then
as mother Poupard pushed her way through
the crowd, it parted and displayed her hus-
band ; drunk, but with pride ; delirious, but with
glory — proudly bearing his youngest grand-
son in his arms, leading the other by the hand.

"Oh, Joseph — " gasped his astonished wife,
every bit of anger gone from her voice.
[85],

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

And then followed a very touching family
scene, in which the delinquent was forgiven,
and during which time one of the bystanders
explained that father Poupard had walked
from Chateau-Thierry to Epernay, to fetch
his orphan grandchildren, and had returned on
foot, carrying first one and then the other —
accomplishing the hundred miles in not quite
four days! A heroic undertaking for a man
over seventy!

The sun rose and set several times ere my
interior arrangements were completed and
nothing extraordinary happened to break the
monotony of my new routine. On Tuesday,
the eleventh, the strange buzzing of a motor
told us that an aeroplane was not far distant.
Our chateau lies in the valley between two hills,
so to obtain a clear view of the horizon, I hur-
ried to the roof with a pair of field glasses.

Presently a tiny black speck appeared and as
it grew within the scope of my glass, it was
easy to recognize the shape of a Taube.
That was my introduction to the enemy.

Without waiting a second I rushed to the
telephone and asked central at Charly (the
telephones now belonged to the army) to pass
[86]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

on the message that a German aeroplane had
been sighted from the Chateau de Vilhers, and
was flying due west, head on for Paris. The
noise had grown louder and louder, and when
I returned to my post of observation, I found
most of the servants assembled, all craning
their necks. On came the Taube, and there
we stood, gaping, never realizing an instant
that we were running the slightest risk. The
machine passed directly over our heads, not
low enough, however, for us to distinguish
its contents with the naked eye.

"There's another!" shouted someone. And
turning our backs on the enemy, we gave our
entire attention to a second speck that had
suddenly risen on the horizon.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon and
the armoured head of the ever-on-coming aero-
plane glittered splendidly in the golden rays
of the afternoon sun.

''C'est un franpaisr cried George.

''Nonr

''Ouir

Allowing that an aeroplane flies at the rate
of a mile a minute, one can easily imagine
that we had not long to wait before number two
[87]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

sped over us. Through my glass I was able to
recognize the tri-color cockade painted under-
neath the plane, and when I announced this
there went up a wild shriek of joy.

At that moment a loud report in the west
announced that the Germans had begun their
deadly work on undefended territory,

"That's a bomb for the railway crossing at
Nanteuil, I'll bet!" said Leon, and while I was
reahzing that that projectile might just as well
have been for us, the others were gesticulating
and howling encouragement to their compa-
triot some few hundred yards above them, as
though he could hear every word they said:

"Go it, old man!" "Bring down that cursed
blackbird!" ''Vive la FranceT and other
similar ejaculations were drowned by the noise
of the motor.

The chase was on! It was more exciting
than any horserace I ever witnessed. The
Frenchman was rapidly gaining on the other,
but would they come into combat before they
vanished from our horizon? That was the
question that filled us with anguish.

On, on they sped, growing smaller and
smaller every second. Presently it became im-
[88]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

possible to distinguish them apart, but we knew
that they had come within range of each other,
for the two specks rose and fell by turns —
now soaring high, now dipping precipitately,
seeming almost to touch at times. Then, just
as they were about to disappear, one of them
suddenly collapsed and fell! Which one, we
never knew.

Towards dusk the garde-champetre ap-
peared and left orders that George and Leon
must take their turns at mounting guard.
Four hours right out of the sleep of a peasant
boy especially when he is overworked, is likely
to leave him useless the next day. It pro-
voked me a little, but then it was duty and
they must obey. The boys came on at eleven
and having decided it would be better to get in
an hour or so of rest beforehand, they retired
to the hay loft. I promised to look in on them
in case they should fail to waken, and at the
appointed time I put on my sweater and went
down to find, as I had expected, both youths
slumbering peacefully, blissfulty unconscious
of the time. Poor little chaps, it seemed a pity
to wake them, but what was to be done?
Presently an idea of replacing them myself
[89]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

dawned upon me : a second later it so enchanted
me that I wouldn't have had them wake for
anything. The whole thing was beginning to
be terribly romantic.

Slipping quietly away, I went to my room
and got my revolver, and then going to the
south front of the chateau, I softly whistled
for my dogs. Three big greyhounds, a shep-
herd dog and a setter responded immediately,
and just as I was about to shut the little
yellow door, old Betsy, my favorite Boston
bull, came pantiug around the corner of the
house. With these five as bodyguard I saun-
tered up the road in the brilliant moonlight,
arriving in front of the town hall just as the
clock was striking eleven. I must say that my
appearance and announcement rather shocked
two elderly men who had been on the watch
since seven o'clock.

Monsieur Demarcq protested that such a
thing as a woman mounting guard had never
been heard of, but I swiftly argued him out of
that idea. What was required of me ? That I
stop every passer-by and every vehicle ? Didn't
he think me capable of doing so? And I
pointed to my dogs and my revolver. The
[90]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

weight of the argument was so evidently on
my side that they had nothing to do but to
submit, and laughingly Mr. Foeter put me
in possession of a heavy old gun, three pack-
ages of cartridges, and the lantern. Then
once again they asked if I couldn't be dis-
suaded, to which I jokingly replied that I
would set my dogs after them and drive them
home if they didn't make haste to go there at
once. That admonition proved more effica-
cious than I had dared hope, and assured me
that my faithful beasts rejoiced in a ferocious
reputation.

All sorts of fantastic ideas flitted through
my brain as I took possession of my post. I
began, however, by setting the lantern in the
middle of the road, exactly in the centre of
the chain, as a warning to any oncomer. Then
by the moonlight, I proceeded to exaniine my
gun. It was a very primitive arm, and after
carefully weighing it in my hands, I decided
to abandon all thought of stalking up and
down the road with such an implement on
my shoulder. That kind of glory was not
worth the morrow's ache, so I deposited
the antiquated weapon in the hallway of
[91]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the school house and resolved to rely on my
Browning.

Afterwards I came out and seating myself
on the bench with my back against the wall,
waited for something to happen. My dogs
seemed to have comprehended the gravity of
my mission, and crouched close to my feet,
cocking their ears at the slightest sound.

Little by little the great harvest moon
climbed high behind our old Roman church,
perched on the embankment opposite, bathing
everything in molten silver, and causing the
tall pine-trees in the little cemetery adjacent
to cast long black shadows on the road. Down
towards the Marne, the frogs were croaking
merrily — somewhere in the distance a night
locust buzzed, and alarmed by the striking of
midnight the owls who nested in the belfry,
fluttered out into the night and settling on the
church top, began their plaintive hooting.
Still no one passed.

Such calm reigned that it was almost im-
possible to believe that over there, beyond those
distant hills, battle and slaughter were prob-
ably raging.

Presently a shiver warned me that I had
[92]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

been seated long enough; so, marking a hun-
dred steps, I began to pace slowly up and
down, watching the ever-changing firmament.
The first grey streaks of dawn were beginning
to lighten the east when a growl from Tiger
made me face about very abruptly. I must
admit that my heart began beating abnormally,
and the hand in my pocket gripped my revolver
as though it were a live animal and likely to
escape.

A second later all the dogs repeated the
growl, and then I could hear the clicking of a
pair of sabots on the road. The noise ap-
proached, and my guardians looked towards
me, every muscle in their bodies straining,
waiting for the single word, '"ApporteT

''Couchezr I hissed, and awaited develop-
ments.

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer, and
in a moment the stooping figure of an old
peasant came over the brow of the hill. The
gait was too familiar to be mistaken. But
what on earth was father Poupard doing on
the highroad at that hour?

When he was within speaking distance I
came out from the shadow of the wall and put
[93]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the question. If he had suddenly been eon-
fronted with a spook I do not think the old
man could have been more astonished. He
stopped dead still, as though not knowing
whether to turn about and run, or to advance
and take the consequences. Realizing his em-
barrassment, I hastily proffered a few words
of greeting, and then he chose the latter
prerogative.

''Vous?" he said, when at length he found
his tongue. ''Vous?''

"Yes— why not?"

"Who's with you?"

"Nobody. Why?"

He seemed more embarrassed than ever.
Evidently he hadn't yet "caught on."

"What can I do for you?" I continued.

He still hesitated, looking first at me and
then at a bottle he carried in his hand. Finally
he resolved to make a clean breast of it.

"Why," he said, "I didn't expect to find a
woman here, least of all une chatelaine. It
rather startled me ! You see, I've got into the
habit of coming round towards dawn. The
boys begin to get chilly about that time, and
are glad enough to have a go at my fruit
[94]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

brandy. They say I'm too old to mount guard,
so I must serve my country as best I can.
Will you have some — ^my own brew?"

I declined, but he was not offended; yet he
seemed reluctant to go.

"Sit down," I said. "It won't be long before
some of the men will be passing by on their
way to the fields, and then you won't have
made your journey for nothing."

Pere Poupard gladly accepted, and after a
generous swig at his brandy, began telling me
about what happened at Villiers during the
German invasion in 1870. As he talked on,
night gradually disappeared, and when the
clock in the belfry tolled three A. M. my suc-
cessors came to relieve me. I blew out the
lantern and walked home in broad daylight.

The boys looked very sheepish when they
heard what had happened, but as I did not
boast of my exploit, merely taking it as a
matter of course, they had no way of approach-
ing the subject, and like many other things of
the kind, it was soon forgotten in the pursuing
of our onerous daily tasks, and the moral anx-
iety we were experiencing.

There seemed to be no end to the fruit season
[95]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

that summer. The lengthy table in the ser-
vants' hall was literally covered with glasses
containing jam and jelly of every description,
awaiting their paper lids. Nini said there were
over five hmidred — to me it seemed thousands,
and I was heartily glad of a lull before the hos-
pital should open. And I remember distinctly
that the last thing I prepared was some thirty
quarts of black currant brandy ; that is to say,
I had poured the raw alcohol on to the fruit
and set the jars aside to await completion —
six months later! Shortly afterwards I re-
ceived word by a roundabout route from
Soissons that I might expect my trained nurses
and supplies at any moment. In the meantime
I was without word from H. since that event-
ful meeting a week before.

Saturday, the fifteenth of August, was as
little like a religious fete day as one can
imagine. At an early hour the winnowing
machine rumbled up the road to the square
beside the chateau. Under the circumstances
each one must take his turn at getting in his
wheat and oats, and there was no choice of
day or hour. Besides, the village had already
been called on to furnish grain and fodder for
[96]

p

/ V

fSk^

€ 1^

ONE BY ONE THE TOWNS AND VILLAGES HAl> BEEN
BOMBARDED, LOOTED AND BURNED [Page 126J

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the army, and the harvest must be measured
and declared at once. This only half con-
cerned me, for my hay was already in the lofts
before the war began, and two elderly men
who had applied for work as bunchers, had
been engaged for the last week in August.

After service at Charly, I walked across to
the post office. The post mistress and tele-
graph operator, a delightful provincial maiden
lady, always welcomes me most cordially,
and at present I fancied she might have
some news that had not yet reached Villiers.
(Mind you, since the second of August we
had had but two newspapers, and those ob-
tained with what difficulty!) The bureau now
belonged to the army, and for a fortnight
Mademoiselle Maupoix and her two young girl
assistants had hardly had time to sleep, so busy
were they transmitting ciphered dispatches,
passing on orders, etc. It was to this physical
exhaustion that I attributed the swollen coun-
tenance of my little friend when she opened
the door to her private sitting-room. It was
evident she had something to tell, but her ex-
quisite breeding forbade that she go headlong
into her subject, before having graciously in-
[97]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

quired for my health, my husband and news
of us both since last we met.

"And the war, Mademoiselle, do you know
anything about what has happened*? '

Two great tears swelled to Mademoiselle's
eyes, which, however, bore a triumphant ex-
pression.

"Madame — the French flag is flying over
Mulhouse — but it cost fifteen thousand lives!
That is official news. I cannot give you fur-
ther details nor say how I obtained what I
have told you."

Then the armies had met and war was now
a bloody reality!

I shuddered. Here was news of a victory
and all we could do was weep! Once again
the sons of France had generously shed their
blood to reconquer their righteous belongings !

I left Mademoiselle and rode home in silence.
Should I tell the villagers? Why not? But
how —

The question answered itself, for as we ap-
proached the town hall I saw the school master
and a number of elderly men seated on the
bench beside the chain. When we pulled up
to give Cesar breathing spell, they all came
[98]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

clustering around the carriage. Did I know
anything? Had I heard anything?

"Gentlemen," I said, with a decided huski-
ness in my throat, "the French flag flies over
Mulhouse, but fifteen thousand men are hors
de comhatr

Joy, followed almost instantaneously by an
expression of sorrow, literally transfigured all
their faces. Tears sprang to the eyes of several,
falling silently down their furrowed cheeks,
and without uttering a word, as one man they
all uncovered! The respect for the glorious
dead immediately abolished any desire for
boisterous triumph.

There was no necessity to add any comment,
so I continued my route to the chateau.

One night towards the end of the following
week, I was awakened by the banging of doors
and the shattering of window panes. A violent
storm had suddenly blown up and the wind
was working havoc with unfastened blinds and
shutters. There was no use thinking of hold-
ing a candle or a lamp. Besides, the lightning
flashed so brightly that I was able to grope
my way through the long line of empty rooms,
[99]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

tighten the fastenings, and shut the windows.
I had reached the second story without mishap
and without hearing the shghtest footstep
within doors. All my little servants were so
exhausted that even the thunder had not roused
them. Presently, however, the sound of the
gate bell broke on my ears.

"Pooh," thought I. "Some tree or branch
has fallen on the wire. Catch me getting wet
going out to see what it is."

The ringing continued, but more violently
and at regular intervals. I went down to the
middle window and stuck my head out. At
the same moment, my dogs made one wild rush
towards the gate and a woman's voice called,
^'Madame Huard, ouvrez, s'il vous plaitr

By the light of another flash, I could dis-
tinguish a dripping figure in white. "Bah!
someone is ill or dying and wants me to tele-
phone for a doctor!"

So I pulled the bell communicating with
the servants' quarters, threw on a few warmer
clothes, and went below. At the foot of the
stairs I came upon George and Leon much
dishevelled, but wide awake.

"There is someone in distress at the gate,"
[100]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I hurriedly explained. "Call off the dogs and
go and see who it is. I'll light up in the
refectory and wait for you there."

They obeyed, and in the course of three or
four minutes returned, bringing with them a
much-bedraggled but smiling woman on whose
coat was pinned the Red Cross medal.

"I'm the trained nurse. Madame Macherez
sent me here to help with your hospital."

"Oh ! I'm sure you're welcome, Madame — "

"Guix is my name. I received my orders to
join you here three days ago, and communica-
tions are so bad that I've come most of the way
on foot. I humbly apologize for arriving at
such an hour and in such a state."

I hurried Madame Guix off to her apart-
ment, told the boys to wake Julie and have her
send us a cup of tea and some refreshments in
my httle drawing-room. Though it was the
middle of August, the rain and dampness
were so penetrating that I did not hesitate to
touch a match to a brushwood fire that is
always prepared in my grate. In a short time
my guest reappeared and as she refreshed her-
self, I busily plied her with questions con-
cerning the events of the last two weeks,
[101]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Madame Guix, a woman but little over
thirty, came from Choisy-le-Roi (the city
of famous Rouget de I'lsle). Merciere by
trade, on the death of husband and baby she
had adopted the career of infirmiere, and at
the outbreak of the war found herself in pos-
session of her diploma and ready to serve. She
had enlisted at the big military hospital her
native town had installed in the school house,
and for three long weeks had sat and waited
for something to do.

"Are there no wounded there?"

"Not when I left."

"Have you ever yet had occasion to nurse a
soldier?"

"Yes, of course. Four days after the declara-
tion when the Forty-ninth Territorials came
through Choisy on their forced march to the
front, we were suddenly filled up with cases
of congestion. You see, that regiment is com-
posed of men mostly over forty, and what with
the heat, their guns and their sacs, and un-
accustomed to such a life, many of them
couldn't stand the strain. My first patient was
a sad little man named Bouteron.

"Bouteron? What Bouteron?"
[102]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Marcel Bouteron."

"No!"

"Why?"

"Is he dead?"

"No."

I breathed again. Thank God! Bouteron,
Bouteron, our jolly little Bouteron, gaiety it-
self, who three weeks ago was the very life and
soul of our last house party ! Was it possible ?
Already "down and out!" And to think that
this strange woman should bring me the news.
I drew my chair nearer to Madame Guix and
for two long hours we talked, as only women
can.

From Choisy she had sought to exercise her
metier to better advantage by approaching the
front, so had addressed herself to Madame
Macherez in Soissons. From there she had
been sent to me. Did she think there was any
possibility of nursing wounded in our hospital?
We were so far south.

She was confident that we would not be
empty long. Bloody battles were being waged
from Alsace throughout the entire north.
Belgian territory had been violated and Liege
was putting up a heroic defense.
[ 103 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

But our doctor and the pharmaceutical
products? From where and when would they
arrive? Food and bedding would go a long
way, but were hardly sufficient to start a
hospital !

We were to count on Madame Macherez
for both. She had promised to do her utmost
to reach us with our supplies, but the rules
of circulation on the roads were so severe that
even Red Cross supply cars had to stand in
line and await permits. In the meantime we
must organize as best we could.

The following morning a few moments'
intercourse proved to me that Madame Guix's
competence extended far beyond the bounds
of her metier. She was a splendid worker,
and no task was too difficult, so long as it
furthered our purpose — namely, that of being
ready in case of emergency.

By noon we had decided that it would be
useless to count upon my servants to help in
the hospital. They already had all they could
do. So I went and asked our mayor if he
knew of any women who, de bonne volonte,
would come and assist us. Madame Guix vol-
unteered to teach them . the rudiments of
[104]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

bandaging between two and five on the coming
afternoons, and we would establish a roule-
ment^ so that the little time that each dis-
posed of might be properly and efficiently
utilized.

The drum beat and made the announcement,
and at two the same afternoon we had the
satisfaction of welcoming some twenty women.
In the meantime every bit of old linen I pos-
sessed was brought down and put on the dining-
room table, then measured and torn in formes
reglementaires ready to be sterilized and put
aside. Half a dozen bands were left out as
models and it was with these that Madame
Guix commenced her demonstrations. She
soon put her listeners at ease, and presently
all were anxious to try a hand at bandaging.
The naive clumsiness of these poor souls was
extremely pathetic, but such was their patriot-
ism that they never considered themselves
ridiculous for a single instant, and stood there
fumbling the long linen rolls with hands that
were far more accustomed to wielding a spade
or directing a plough. Again and again they
would recommence certain difficult proceed-
ings, taking turns at playing the dummy, and
[105]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

offering as models calves and biceps of which
many an athlete might have been proud.

Of the score of women but two or three
really acquired any facility, but we considered
that sufficient, for in time of need the others
could easily be put to work at necessary mat-
ters which were of less vital importance.

From the windows of the dining-room where
the cours was held, we could look down the
driveway and see all the children of the neigh-
bourhood standing on the wall of the moat,
craning their necks in the hope of catching a
glimpse of what was going on in the chateau.
It was evidently an interesting diversion, for
every afternoon they reappeared, in spite of
George's threats to send for the gendarmes.
The little demons seemed to know that the
gendarmes were too busy to give them any
attention, and I assure you, they profited by
their liberty. Little John Poupard and his
five-year-old brother were the leaders of the
band, and I trembled lest some day their curi-
osity lead to a tragic end!

Nor were my fears in vain, for one after-
noon we heard a shriek and a splash, followed
by cries of terror, and we knew for certain
[106]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

that someone had fallen into the moat. The
embankment is not eight feet high, and at that
season of the year there is more mud than
water in the river, so I was certain that who-
ever had fallen in was in no danger of drown-
ing— but nevertheless I hastened with the
others to the spot.

George, who had also heard the noise,
reached the scene of action before we did, and
on our arrival we found him knee deep in the
mud, preparing to hoist a little limp body on
to the bank.

Johnny Poupard!

"Good heavens !" thought I. "Decidedly that
family had no intention of letting the village
rust for want of dramatic situations!"

"He's merely fainted ; more frightened than
hurt," declared Madame Guix, who had liter-
ally pounced upon him. "Now then, ladies,"
she said, turning towards the women who stood
gaping at us, "now then, here's a splendid op-
portunity to distinguish yourselves."

And so little John Poupard was carried into

the infirmary. As first patient you may be

sure that he received every attention. Some

ammonia was held under his nose. This soon

[107]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

brought him around and after carefully sound-
ing all his bones, Madame Guix decided that
there were no fractures. And the bandaging
began !

It makes me smile when I think of it all
now — for the only wounds Johnny possessed
were a few scratches on his hands, knees and
head, caused by his sudden contact with a
patch of stinging nettles which had sprung up
on the river banks.

Under ordinary circumstances, the child
would probably have picked himself up and
walked home, forgetting his woes an hour
later. But real live models who are actually
in pain, are few and far between, especially
at "courses" such as ours, and the amount of
professional skill that was expended on that
little urchin ought to have cured six of hjs
kind. But it all made the women so happy!

At the end of half an hour, Johnny Poupard
looked more like an Egyptian mummy than a
hmnan being, so much so that when his grand-
mother arrived upon the scene of action, she
very nearly fainted and all but became patient
number two at Auxiliary Hospital No. 7 !

We had some little difficulty reassuring her,
[108]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

but when her prodigal grandson sat up and
asked for bread and jam, she forgot her anxiety
and began scolding him for daring to give her
such a fright, and us so much trouble.

Towards the end of the third week in August
the mobilisation was considered finished and
the Eastern Railroad opened again to the
public; its time tables of course being limited
and subject to instant change, the company
refusing to be responsible for delays. To us
at the chateau this meant very little, save
that we would receive our mail and the
daily papers more frequently. However,
several friends who fancied I was unsafe alone
and so far from the capital, kindly ventured
to start to Villiers to try to persuade me to
come up to town. It took them seven hours
to reach Meaux (thirty miles from Paris) ;
they were obliged to sleep there because it was
suddenly announced that their train went no
further — and worse than all, they were eighteen
hours getting home.

"Weren't people furious?" I questioned,
when afterwards they told me of their ad-
venture.

[109]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Not in the slightest. Everyone bore it
patiently as part of his tribute to his country.
*The army first' was their motto."

The first batch of mail brought me any
number of stale letters, which had arrived and
been held in Paris over three weeks. Invita-
tions to a house party in Belgium and things
of that kind that seemed so strangely out of
place now. The two most important docu-
ments, however, came, one from my cousin,
Marie Huard ( Superior at the Convent of the
Infant Jesus at Madrid) and the other from
Elizabeth Gauthier.

My cousin had taken upon herself to locate
and communicate with every member of the
Huard family called to arms (and they are
numerous, when one considers that H. has no
less than twelve married uncles!) and she en-
closed me a sort of map, or family tree, indi-
cating the names, ages, regiments, etc., of some
fifty cousins, begging me to write and encour-
age them from time to time.

Elizabeth Gauthier's letter bore a black

border — and I trembled as I opened it. She

was in Paris alone, and mourning the loss of

her eldest brother, killed at the battle of Mul-

[110]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

house, the ninth of August. Her soHtude
preyed upon her, and she announced her
departure for her sister's chateau in Burgundy.

That was the first real sadness that the war
had brought me so far. It quite upset me,
for Jean Bernard was not only a delightful
friend, but one of the most promising engineers
of the younger generation in France. Both
family, friends and country might well deplore
such a loss.

Even the making and hoisting of a huge
Red Cross flag over the chateau failed to arouse
my enthusiasm all that day. The blow was
too cruel and had stimulated fears which here-
tofore had lain dormant within me.

The next day, however, I was not permitted
to brood over my grief, for Yvonne (she of
the poultry farm) fell ill with a severe attack
of sciatica, which kept her in her bed, every
movement producing a scream of agony.

Of course Madame Guix was there to lend
a hand, but that hardly altered the situation,
so I was obliged to ask the boys to give
another "pull" and try to be equal to the work.
Leon accepted with such alacrity that for the
first time it dawned on me that perhaps he had

[111]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

a soft spot in his heart for my pretty little
goose girl, and this unsuspected romance,
interwoven with the joys and anxieties of the
moment, seemed all the more charming.

To cap the climax of misfortune, old Cesar
had run a nail into his hoof and Madame Guix
spent most of her time between injections of
oxygen on the first floor, and iodyne and flax-
seed poultices in the stables. This of course
meant that all errands outside the village must
be made on bicycle, and George was "mus-
tered into service." Towards noon on the
27th he made his first return trip from Charly,
bringing the mail and the papers, and a very
excited countenance.

"Madame, I've seen one!" he shouted, as I
appeared in the doorway.

"Seen what?"

''Un casque a point r

"A what!"

"Yes — a pointed helmet. I was standing
by the post office in Charly when a long line
of motors passed by on the road to Paris.
I recognized the Belgium uniform, and one
of the soldiers leaned out and held up a German
helmet ! What a trophy !"
[112]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"The Belgians! What on earth are they
doing down here?" thought I. And George
guessed my question.

"Oh," he continued, "y^^ ^^^ their regiment
was cut in two by the Germans at Charleville
and those who escaped managed to get motors
and are on their way home — by a round-about
route to Antwerp via Havre. The hotel
keeper said so. She offered some wine to one
motor full that stopped."

If that were true it was an amazing bit of
news! Then things were not going as well as
the now very reticent papers led one to sup-
pose. But it all seemed so very distant that I
refused to worry.

However, I was about to seek out Madame
Guix and tell her what George had reported
when an amusing sight caught my eye.

From her open window, towards which she
had asked that we push her bed, Yvonne
amused herself by calling her ducklings.

"Bour-ree — bour-ree !"

Then from the farmyard a good two hun-
dred yards distant, would rise the reply,
"Quack! quack! quack!"
[113]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Big and small recognized the call of their
little mistress and hastened to respond.

"Bouree — bour-ree — ^bouree !" called Yvonne
again and again.

Evidently the ducks decided to hold a con-
sultation and send delegates to see what on
earth prevented their friend from caring for
them in person since they could hear her voice.
For as I looked across the lawn towards the
door, imagine my surprise on catching sight of
some thirty or forty Rouenese ducks of all
sizes waddling up the steps and into the
vestibule.

"Bour-ree, bouree!" Yvonne continued.
"Quack, quack, quack!" came the repty, and
when I reached the entrance hall, I found them
all clustered together at the foot of the stair-
case, their heads cocked on one side, awaiting
a decision of their drake before undertaking to
mount the marble stairway.

That same afternoon the cour d'injirmieres
transported itself to the lawn in front of the
chateau. It was too splendid weather to stay
indoors. The demonstrations were finished
and most of the women had retired, when one
of those who remained lifted her finger and
[114]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

asked for silence. "Listen," she said, ''the
cannon!" She didn't need to go any further.
In less than a second's time we were straining
our ears towards the east!

"There!" she said, "there it goes again!"

Three of us had heard a sound which
strangely resembled the popping of a cork at a
very great distance. Remembering my grand-
mother's Indian stories, I stretched out on the
grass with my ear to the ground. This time I
heard the rolling so distinctly that my face
must have altered, for two of the women shud-
dered and took hasty leave.

In a second I guessed that they were off to
tell the news — so I made light of it by declar-
ing that it must be the trying-out of some
heavy artillery at Chalons; but when Madame
Guix and I found ourselves alone, we looked
at each other with interrogation points in our
eyes.

We thought of our hospital, of our supplies,
of our perfect uselessness unless Soissons could
yet reach us — and I resolved to go down to the
druggist at Charly and see what could be done.

The following morning, Saturday, the twen-
ty-ninth— I betook myself to Charly and there
[115]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

managed to beg the elements of a rudimentary
infirmary from the old pharmacist, who must
have thought me crazy. Absorbent cotton I
was able to procure in small rolled packages
from the draper, and promising to send the
boys down in the afternoon with a small hand
cart, I returned home, without having observed
anything abnormal save the frequent passage
of autos towards Paris — all going top speed
and loaded with the queerest occupants and
baggage.

On my return great excitement reigned
around our gate, for a private automobile con-
taining wounded had halted on seeing our Red
Cross flag, and Madame Guix welcomed them
in.

They were petit blesses, all able to travel,
probably suffering more from heat and priva-
tion than from their wounds. They had no
orders to stop, but hoped we would let them
rest a bit before going further — and could we
give them something to eat?

All this was very fortunate considering our
precarious situation and we gladly did the best
we knew how. There were six poor chaps be-
longing to different regiments, but all so tired
[116]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

that it seemed cruel to prevent their snatching
a rest by plying them with questions. We
could do that later on.

The lads were hardly stretched out when
another motor drew up before the gate.
This one contained besides three privates a
young officer with his arm in a sling, and he
asked if we could give them water. Leon told
them that they would be very welcome if they
would care to come in and rest — there were
already a half-dozen wounded asleep in the
house. At these words the lieutenant jumped
down and asked for the rnedicin-chef. He was
rather startled when I appeared, and told him
that there was no military authority as yet in-
stalled at the chateau.

"Then I must take all the responsibility of
the men," he said very kindly but firmly. "I'm
sorry, but they cannot remain here. I must
deliver them safe at some big centre outside
the zone of operations."

The time had come for questions — and I
learned with amazement that Liege had fallen,
Belgium was invaded, and that hard fighting
was going on at St. Quentin, but eighty miles
away. "The cannon of yesterday was no target
[117]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

practise," thought I. The men all seemed so
hopeful, though, that we never felt a qualm.

"As you will. Monsieur," I said, and the
weary boys were wakened and hurried off
before we had time to ask names, addresses or
any further details.

All this had transpired so rapidly that we
had had no time to call in our assistants, and
presently Madame Guix and I found ourselves
alone in the empty vestibule.

[118]

IV

Nothing further happened that afternoon.
Madame Guix's course went on as usual, with
perhaps a Httle more animation in the conversa-
tion, and much speculation as to when and
where those who had stopped at the chateau
had been wounded. No one really knew. To
tell the truth, though later Madame Guix and
I had asked them, the soldiers themselves had
but a very indistinct idea of time and date or
whereabouts.

That night I was awakened by the low
rumbling of heavy carts on the road in front
of the chateau. Fancying that perhaps it was
artillery on its way to the front, I put on my
dressing gown and went as far as the gate.
There in the pale moonlight I beheld a long
stream of carriages and wagons of every de-
scription piled high with household goods, and
filled with women and children. The men
walked beside the horses to prevent collision,
for as far as eye could see, the lamentable
cortege extended down the hill.
[119]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

What did this mean?

"Who are you?" I called to one of the men
as they passed.

"Belgians — refugees."

Refugees! My mind flew back to descrip-
tions of the French Revolution and the Reign
of Terror, when so many people fled for their
lives! What nonsense! Were we not in the
twentieth century? Wasn't there a Peace
Palace at The Hague? My thoughts became
muddled.

Opening the gate, I went out and accosted
another man.

"Won't you come in and rest?"

"No, we can't. ,We must make our twenty
miles by dawn — and rest during the heat of
the day."

"But why do you leave home?"

"Because the savages burned us out !"

Bah, the man must be dreaming!

I turned back and addressed myself to an-
other :

"What's your hurry?" I queried .

"They're on our heels!" came the reply.

Surely this one was madder than the other!

A third did not deign to reply, sturdily
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MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

marching ahead, his eyes fixed on the road in
front of him.

On top of a farm cart half filled with hay I
saw the prostrate form of a woman with two
others kneeling beside her ministering to her
wants. In the trap that followed was the most
sorrowful group of old men and middle-aged
women I ever hope to see. All were sobbing.
Beside them rode two big boys on bicycles. I
stopped one of them.

"What's the matter with her?" I questioned,
pointing to the woman on the cart.

"She's crazy."

"Yes, lost her mind."

"How, when, where?"

"Two days ago, when we left X. (Try as
I may, I cannot recall the name of the little
Belgian town he mentioned.) She was ill in
bed with a fever when the Germans set fire to
the place — hardly giving us time to hoist her
on the cart. Her husband lingered behind to
scrape a few belongings together. In spite of
our efforts, she would stand up on the cart, and
suddenly we heard an explosion and she saw
her house burst into flame. She fainted. Out-
[121]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

side in the woods we waited an hour, but her
husband never came. Perhaps it's just as well,
for when she woke up her mind was a blank!"

Ye gods! I rubbed my eyes. It couldn't
be possible that all this was true ! I was asleep !
It was merely a horrible nightmare. But no —
the carts rolled on in the pale moonlight carry-
ing their heavy burdens of human misery.

It was more than I could stand. All thought
of sleep had vanished, so I went and woke
Madame Guix. We dressed and descended to
the kitchen, where with a few smouldering
embers, we soon managed to light a good fire.
Water was set to boil and in half an hour's
time we carried out to the bridge two huge
pails of hot coffee, a pail of cold water, and one
of wine. No one refused our offerings, and
the hearty *'God bless you's" of those kindly
souls brought tears to our eyes more than once.

Dawn, Monday, August 31st, found us still
at our posts. I rang the farm bell, assembled
my servants, and told them we would abandon
all but the most necessary farm work and min-
ister to the wants of the refugees. By eight
o'clock they had peeled and prepared vegeta-
bles enough to fill two huge copper pots, and
[122]

ALL THE BRIDGES WERE CUT OR BLOWN UP

[Page 146]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the soup was set to boil. And still the long
line of heavy vehicles followed one another
down the road : moving vans, delivery wagons,
huge drays, and even little three-wheeled carts
drawn by dogs, rolled on towards the south.

When asked where they were going, most of
the people replied, "Straight ahead of us, a la
grace de Dieu/'

By the morning the heat had grown intol-
erable and a splendid looking man got down
from a cart and came towards me. Might he
turn his party into the drive and rest a bit in
the shade?

I was only too willing, and gladly offered
hot soup and stewed fruit to any who would
accept.

Two long heavy drays each drawn by a pair
of the handsomest big bay horses with creamy
manes that I have ever seen, pulled up in the
courtyard. Impromptu seats had been ar-
ranged in the wagons and from these climbed
down some twenty or thirty old women, chil-
dren and men, worn out by the fatigue, anxiety
and want of sleep. My heart went out to them,
and in a generous moment I was about to offer
them my beds so they could get a good rest
[123]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

before starting off again, but on second thought
it dawned on me that I must keep them for the
army! What a pretty thing it would be if
another auto full of wounded suddenly ap-
peared and found all my wards occupied !

I explained my position. They grasped it
at once. It was too good of me. They were
all well and needed no beds — ^would I let them
sleep in the hay for a few hours ?

But better still, I suggested, if the boys
would carry a dozen or so extra mattresses I
possessed into the harness room, the women
might lie there, and the men could take to the
hay.

They had food, plenty of it, bought on the
way from village dealers who had not yet been
seized with panic and shut up shop. So I told
them that instead of building individual fires
they might cook their noonday meal on my
huge range. They might also use my kitchen
utensils and china if they would wash up, and
thus save unpacking their own. Apparently
this was unheard of generosity and I cannot
tell you how many times that morning my soul
was recommended to the tender protection of
the Blessed Virgin.

[124]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

While the women prepared the meal, George
had taken the men to the wash-house, where
soap and water worked miracles on their dusty
faces ; one by one all the members of the group
disappeared in that direction and when they
gathered around the long table in the refectory,
it was altogether a different company to that
of an hour before.

As they sat down it came over me that none
of us had eaten since the night before, and
dropping onto a chair, I suddenly realized that
I was tired. Berthe and Nini, however, wanted
to know where I would lunch, and were rather
startled when I informed them to lay a cloth
on the kitchen table and to bring out all the
cold meat, cheese, bread, butter and jam in the
larder. It would be a stand-up picnic lunch for
everyone to-day, and what was more, it was
very likely to be picnic dinner; so Julie was
ordered to put two chickens to roast and some
potatoes to boil — both needed but little atten-
tion and would always be ready when we might
need them.

The meal passed in silence in both rooms, and
the "washing up" was done in no time. Then
as they all retired to take their naps, the man
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MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

who had first asked me if they might turn into
the chateau, and who seemed to be the leader
of the party, came into the kitchen and, hat in
hand, begged a word or so with me.

He had come not only to express the grati-
tude of his compatriots, but also his astonish-
ment that I should welcome strangers so cor-
dially. I tried to side-track the conversation
which was very embarrassing, but he would
hear none of it.

"We are not gypsies, you know, Madame."
I smiled and told him that that was more than
evident. "Look at our horses and our dogs!"
And the good fellow proceeded to inform me
that he was the keeper of a big estate that be-
longed to Madame Pyrme (sister of the sena-
tor of that name), situated in the little village
of Hanzinell, Belgium. He even offered to
show his papers, but I shook my head. His
open-hearted sincerity and frank countenance
were sufficient.

But why had they come away? That was
what interested me.

Because their country was invaded and one
by one the towns and villages had been bom-
barded, looted and burned until little or noth-
[ 126 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

ing remained. Because all men under fifty-
were carried away as hostages or prisoners;
because he had seen little children slain, and
young girls tortured; because anything was
better than falling helpless into the hands of
such an enemy.

"Madame, at Charleroi I've seen the blood
running in the gutters like rain after a storm —
and that not a week ago !''

It was impossible not to believe him. His
eye was not that, of a coward. He told his
story simply; he was almost reticent, and I
had even to encourage him at times to make
him finish a phrase. Finally I asked him where
he intended going, and why so far away.
Didn't he think he was safe here?

No — jamais! Yesterday in the night they
had heard the cannon growing closer and
closer. They knew the sound. The Germans
were advancing. It was Paris they wanted —
and nothing would stop them till they reached
their goal.

"Except the French army," I said, with
pride.

"God grant you speak the truth, Madame!"
But in the meantime he seemed to consider that
[127]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

one was far safer in the way of some gigantic
mowing-machine than on the path of the
German army. He had come to tell me the
truth and to warn me that I ought to make
ready to leave.

"You are helpless here, Madame. Three
women, three little girls, and two boys! It's
tempting fate."

I couldn't seem to see it his way, however.
The papers though very mysterious, had given
us no cause for alarm. As yet we had not seen
a single trooper. If it were true that the
French were retreating we would leave when
the army appeared. That would be time
enough.

"Why, my good fellow," I said reassuringly,
"if the Germans ever reach here Paris is
doomed — and the war will be over!"

"Perhaps—"

"Besides, I can't go. I've got a hospital on
my hands, though the wounded are lacking.
Haven't you seen our Red Cross flag? And if
that isn't sufficient, I can prove that I'm an
American born. That ought to be protection
enough for anyone!"

I must admit that the incredulous smile that
[128]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

rose to his lips rather angered me, and I sought
still another excuse.

"Furthermore, one of my little maids is too
ill to move, and I don't see us walking off with
folded arms, and that's what would happen if
I followed your advice, for the only horse the
army has left me is over twenty and so lame
that he can't walk ten steps. If he could I'd
have had to present him for the second inspec-
tion at Chateau-Thierry on Wednesday."

The poor fellow shook his head at my ap-
parent foolhardiness, but was too polite to
argue any further. He said that his party
would be off in an hour and asked me if I pos-
sessed a road-map that he might consult. I
gladly showed him the one we had bought with
H. the day of our hasty trip from Paris, since
then pinned to the wall of the refectory. I
noticed that he studied it very carefully, noting
all the little sidetracks where he thought his
drays could pass, and thus avoid following in
line behind the thousands of other vehicles that
encumbered the main roads.

Again he thanked me for all I had done,
caressed my beautiful greyhounds, and left me
his card so that we might meet when all was
[129]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

over. Afterwards when I went into the court,
I heard someone in the stable with George,
and looking in, I saw my friend of a few mo-
ments before examining my horse's hoof and
telling my boy what would make the sore heal
quickly. He was bound to do his best for me !

By five o'clock the stables and grounds were
empty, and our friends from Hanzinell had
joined the column which had slackened a bit
during the heat of the day, but had redoubled
in volume since the sun had gone behind the
hills.

We had a moment's breathing space, during
which we gave our entire attention to Yvonne,
who was writhing with agony on her bed
next my room. For three days now Madame
Guix had administered mild doses of morphine,
but that treatment could not continue very long.
Water bags, friction and massage had proved
fruitless against sciatica, so we resolved to try
a warm bath, with the result that our patient
was almost immediately eased but too weak to
support the heat. She fainted in the tub and
had to be carried back to bed. We were still
working over her when Nini appeared and said
I was wanted below. When Yvonne's eye-
[130]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

lashes began to flutter I left Madame Guix
and regained the kitchen, now become the head-
quarters.

More refugees! Would I let them come in?
They were traveling without map or guide and
dared not venture along the roads at night.

Of course they were welcome, and the same
hospitality that had greeted the refugees from
Hanzinell was offered to those from Thuilly.
Thuilly — the whole village was there! —
mayor, curate, smith and baker, all accom-
panied by different members of their imme-
diate families, driven from home by the cruel
invaders. Terrified by the horrors they had
witnessed, exhausted by their perilous journey,
they were disinclined to talk; and as for my-
self, I was so busy, preoccupied and thor-
oughly spent, that curiosity was forgotten.
Here were people in need of what comforts
I could offer. I gave and asked no ques-
tions.

What was most evident at present was the
fact that rations were shorter among this party
than among those who had stopped in the
morning, and certainly not for the lack of
funds. All of them had money — ^gold a-plenty.
[131]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the question. If he had suddenly been con-
fronted with a spook I do not think the old
man could have been more astonished. He
stopped dead still, as though not knowing
whether to turn about and run, or to advance
and take the consequences. Realizing his em-
barrassment, I hastily proffered a few words
of greeting, and then he chose the latter
prerogative.

''Vous?" he said, when at length he found
his tongue. ''Vousf

"Yes— why not?"

"Who's with you?"

"Nobody. Why?"

He seemed more embarrassed than ever.
Evidently he hadn't yet "caught on."

"What can I do for you?" I continued.

He still hesitated, looking first at me and
then at a bottle he carried in his hand. Finally
he resolved to make a clean breast of it.

"Why," he said, "I didn't expect to find a
woman here, least of all une chatelaine. It
rather startled me! You see, I've got into the
habit of coming round towards dawn. The
boys begin to get chilly about that time, and
are glad enough to have a go at my fruit
[94]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

brandy. They say I'm too old to mount guard,
so I must serve my country as best I can.
Will you have some — ^my own brew?"

I declined, but he was not offended; yet he
seemed reluctant to go.

"Sit down," I said. "It won't be long before
some of the men will be passing by on their
way to the fields, and then you won't have
made your journey for nothing."

Pere Poupard gladly accepted, and after a
generous swig at his brandy, began telling me
about what happened at Villiers during the
German invasion in 1870. As he talked on,
night gradually disappeared, and when the
clock in the belfry tolled three A. M. my suc-
cessors came to relieve me. I blew out the
lantern and walked home in broad daylight.

The boys looked very sheepish when they
heard what had happened, but as I did not
boast of my exploit, merely taking it as a
matter of course, they had no way of approach-
ing the subject, and like many other things of
the kind, it was soon forgotten in the pursuing
of our onerous daily tasks, and the moral anx-
iety we were experiencing.

There seemed to be no end to tKe fruit season
[95]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

dawn broke, and an hour later we bade fare-
well to our "lodgers for a night." I bethought
me of my kodak, and as the sun peeped through
the clouds I caught a snapshot of my depart-
ing guests as they turned the corner of the
chateau.

They joined in behind the stream of other
carts which we were now accustomed to seeing.
In fact, this general exodus no longer aston-
ished us. It seemed as if the panic had spread
over the whole of Flanders like a drop of oil on
a sheet of paper. To us, who consider our-
selves as living in the suburbs of Paris, Bel-
gium is so far away!

I wound off my film and was returning to-
wards the house, when two very distinguished
looking girls stepped off their bicycles and
asked for directions. I gave them with pleas-
ure and in turn ventured a few questions.

They were from St. Quentin ! That startled
me. They had been en route two days. They
had not seen the Germans, but the town had
been officially evacuated. A man on a bicycle
had sped by them the day before and an-
nounced the bombardment and destruction of
their native city! Hard fighting at La Fere.
[134]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

St. Quentin! Then the Germans were on
our soil ! The Belgians were right — they were
evidently advancing rapidly. But why worry ?
We were safe as long as we had the French
army between us and them.

Though as yet the day was but a couple of
hours old, I was weary. This business of hotel-
keeping on so large a scale with so little assist-
ance was beginning to tell on my strength. I
opened the gate and told George and Leon
to welcome any who wished to come in, and
then repairing to the kitchen, I sat down and
began helping the others prepare vegetables.
The discovery that in spite of all their good
will my guests had necessarily left many traces
of their passage, brought me to my feet again,
and we were all hard at work when a haggard
female face looked in at the kitchen window.

"Is there a doctor here?"

"No,— but— "

The woman burst into tears. Madame Guix
and I hurried out into the court. "My baby —
I can't seem to warm her," moaned the poor
soul. "She hasn't eaten anything since yester-
day."

And stretching out her arms, the woman
[135]

MY HOME IN THE PIELD OF HONOUR

showed us an infant that she had been carry-
ing in her apron. It was dead.

I had difficulty in overcoming my emotion,
but Madame Guix took the poor httle corpse
into her arms, and I helped the mother to an
arm chair in the refectory.

A cup of strong coffee brought back a little
color to her wan cheeks and she told us she
was from Charleville. The Tauhes had got
in their sinister work to good advantage among
the civil population but they were merely the
forerunners of another and heavier bombard-
ment. The townspeople had fled in their night
clothes.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes — I'm not a native of Charleville. My
husband and I have only been married a year.
He left the second of August and the baby was
born the tenth. She's only three weeks old."

ISTo wonder the mother looked haggard — one
hundred and fifty miles on foot, with a new-
born infant in her arms, fleeing for her life
before the barbarous hordes !

I pressed another cup of coffee with a drop
of brandy in it upon her. She looked appeal-
ingly at both of us and then drank.
[136]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Was your husband good to you?" asked
Madame Guix.

"Ah, yes, Madame."

"Do you love him well enough to endure an-
other sacrifice like a true wife and mother that
you are?"

"Yes."

And then we told her that her baby had gone
— gone to a brighter Country where war is un-
known. She looked at us in amazement, and
burying her head on her arm, sobbed silently
but submissively.

"Come, come, you must sleep — and when
you are rested we will help you to find room in
a cart which will take you towards your
parents."

She cast a long, loving look at her first born,
and let herself be led away.

All we could do was to make an official dec-
laration of the death at the town hall. A small
linen sheet served as shroud, a clean, flower-
lined soap box formed that baby's coffin, and
George and I were the grave diggers and chief
mourners, who laid the tiny body at rest in the
little vine-grown churchyard. War willed it
thus.

[137]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

When I got back from the cemetery I found
another load of refugees installed in the court-
yard. This time they proved to be a hotel
keeper and her servants from the Ardennes.
They, however, had foreseen that flight was
imminent and had carefully packed a greater
part of their household belongings and valu-
ables onto several wagons, taking care that all
were well balanced and properly loaded so as
to carry the maximum weight without tiring
the horses. They needed less attention than
the others had required, for when I explained
that the house was theirs, they went about their
work swiftly and silently, getting in no one's
way and attending to every want of their mis-
tress, who sat in her coupe and gave orders.

Later on they were joined by the occupants
of numerous other equipages, all from the same
district — but with whom I had but little inter-
course. From one poor woman, however, I
learned that her two daughters, aged sixteen
and seventeen, had been lost from the party
for two days. They were in the cart with the
curate who had stopped to water his horse, thus
losing his place in line. When they had
reached the spot where the road forked, which
[138]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

direction had he taken? What had become of
them? She pinned her name and route on the
refectory wall, begging me to give it to them if
they ever inquired for her. To my knowledge
they never passed.

At luncheon Madame Guix announced that
Yvonne was better. Far from well, but better.
That was a load off my mind.

The mother of the poor little infant we had
buried was peacefully slumbering on a cot in
the hospital, and presently Leon came in to
say that old Cesar had put his hoof on the
ground for the first time in four days. Bravo !
I felt much relieved.

And still the carts rolled down the valley,
their noise echoing between the hills. To-day
there was no respite : right on through the heat
of noon they rumbled past, thicker and faster
it seemed to me.

"Bother them!" I thought. "They make so
much noise that we couldn't hear the cannon if
it were only a mile distant." And hoping that
perhaps I might seek some assurance from that
sound, I was about to set off for the highest
spot in the park to listen. At the door, how-
ever, I was accosted by one of the two men who
[139]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

for several days had been bundling my hay in
the stable lofts. He pleaded illness. Would
I pay him and let him go? He would come
back to-morrow and finish if he felt better.

As there was nothing unusual in his request,
I settled his account and told him to go and
rest. I now know that he was a German spy,
and have recently learned that a fortnight later
he was caught and shot at Villers-Cotterets.

I wonder what possessed me to make that
long weary climb. Evidently I found out what
I wanted to know, but the news was anything
but reassuring. I heard the cannon distinctly :
so distinctly that I was a trifle unnerved. Not
only had my ears caught the long ever-steady
rolling (already observed three days since) but
I had been able to make out a difference in the
calibre of each piece that fired, and added to it
all was a funny clattering sound, as when one
drags a wooden stick along an iron barred
fence. JLa Fere is putting up a heroic defense,
I thought, blissfully unconscious of the fact
that it is utterly impossible to hear a cannon
at that distance — at half, no, even a quarter of
that distance. Judge then for yourselves what
was its proximity to Villiers !
[140]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

For two days now the course in nursing
had been abandoned, not for lack of enthusiasm
but because each housewife had more than she
could attend to at home. The chateau was not
the only place where refugees halted, and all
the villagers had done their best to make the
travelers comfortable. From where I stood
overlooking the two valleys, I could see the
interminable line of carts on all roads within
scope of my view, and in every farm yard
as well as on the side of the main thorough-
fares, vehicles were drawn up and thin columns
of blue smoke rising heavenward, told that the
evening meal was under way.

The population of my own courtyard had
quadrupled by five o'clock. People from St.
Quentin, Ternier, Chauny — each with a tale
of horror and sorrow — sought refuge for the
night. Madame Guix was permanently estab-
lished in the dispensary, and a line was formed
as in front of the city clinics, each one waiting
his turn, hoping that she might be able to
relieve his suffering. At dusk a cart turned
into the drive and a grey-haired man asked if
we had a litter on which to carry his son to the
house. "What was the matter?" I inquired. "A
[141]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

cough — such a bad cough." I went with him
towards the wagon, and there beheld the sad
spectacle of a youth in the last stages of tuber-
culosis. Thin beyond description, a living
skeleton, the poor boy turned his great glassy
eyes towards me in supplication. I drew the
father aside. It was best to be frank. I shook
my head and said it would be useless to move
his son. We had no doctor, and his illness was
beyond our competence. Cover him well, and
try to reach a big city as soon as possible.

As I turned away, a sturdy youth tapped me
gently on the arm, begging shelter for his
great-grandmother, a woman ninety-three
years old, whom he had carried on his back
all the way from St. Quentin. A cot in the
entrance hall was all prudence permitted me to
offer, and it was charming to see how tenderly
the young fellow bore the poor little withered
woman to her resting-place. She was so dazed
that I fear she hardly realized what was hap-
pening, but tears of gratitude streamed down
her cheeks when her boy appeared with a bowl
of hot soup, coaxing her to drink, like a child,
and finally curling up on the rug beside her
bed.

[142]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Five times that evening the great refectory
table was surrounded by hungry men and
women; five times I ladled out soup and veg-
etables to forty persons, and five times we all
helped to wash up. So when all was finally
cleaned away, and Madame Guix and I fell ex-
hausted onto two kitchen chairs, it was well
onto eleven P. M.

My clever nurse informed me that she had
arranged for the departure in a cart of the
mother whose baby we had buried, and I in
turn told her of my climb in the park and the
approach of the cannon. It was evident that
the Germans were bearing down on us, and
swiftly. When we looked at the map and saw
the names of the cities, towns and villages
whose populations had succeeded each other
down the road, it was clear that the French
must be beating a forced retreat, or (and this
was unlikely) panic had spread so quickly that
the whole north of France was now moving
south on a fool's errand. We cast this second
hypothesis aside. We had heard too many
tales of woe and seen too much misery to be-
lieve anything of the sort.

Well, and then what? Our case was simple
[ 143 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

— either the Germans would be stopped before
they reached us, or the French army would put
in an appearance, in which latter case it would
be time enough to leave, unless we were
officially evacuated before! Having adopted
this simple line of conduct, we retired, quite
satisfied and not in the least uneasy.

In the cool grey dawn of Wednesday morn-
ing, September second, when I opened my
shutters and looked out into the little square
that faces the chateau, I was amazed to see
that the refugees who had halted there were
in carts and wagons whose signs were most
familiar. They came from Soissons!

"Hello," thought I, "I'll go and see what
they have to say ! Things must be getting very
bad if a big city like Soissons suddenly takes to
its heels." (Soissons is but little over twenty
miles from Villiers.) As I came down stairs I
heard the drum roll, and George, who just then
appeared with the milk, announced that the
requisition of horses which should have taken
place at Chateau-Thierry that morning, was
indefinitely postponed. That was hardly reas-
suring, especially as it was the first official news
we had received in a long time.
[ 144]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

So busy were we helping those who had slept
at the cliateau to depart, that I had no time to
put my first intentions into execution, and
when finally I had a moment, I looked out of
the window and saw that my friends from
Soissons had vanished. They, too: well, well,
well!

I was not astonished; in fact I gave the
matter but little heed. We had taken our
resolutions the night before and had no time
to stop every five minutes and question as to
whether we were right or wrong. At noon,
however, when an old peasant woman called
me through the kitchen window and announced
that all Charly was leaving post haste, I must
admit that I winced, but only for a second. If
I had listened to all the different rumours that
had been noised abroad within the last week I
would have been a fit subject for a lunatic
asylum by then!

Resolved, however, to get at the core of the
matter, I sent George to Charly (our market
town, four miles away) to see what he could
find out. He returned on his bicycle at lunch-
eon time, bearing the following astonishing
information.

[145]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

The hotel keeper and his wife, alarmed by
the arrival of the Soissonais, had taken their
auto and started for that city in quest of news.
They had returned an hour later, having been
unable to pass Oulchy-le- Chateau, fifteen miles
from Charly, where all the bridges were cut or
blown up! They were making their prepara-
tions for departure.

"And," continued George, in an excited
tone, "as I came past the Gendarmerie the
brigadier called to me and said good-bye. All
the gendarmes had received orders to leave at

once for their depot at ." (The name

of some town the other side of the Marne,
which I cannot remember.)

Instead of frightening me this information
stimulated my nerves, which were beginning to
be depressed by much work and little news.

"Good," I said. "Now then, we can expect
the soldiers at any minute. Poke up the fire,
Julie, and we'll fall to work to have hot soup
ready when our boys arrive."

Then we were really going to be in the
excitement. How glorious to be able to help
— for in my mind ours was the only solution
possible to the question.

[146]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

I set to work with renewed vigor and, as on
the day before, we were constantly in demand
by refugees requiring treatment and attention.
How well I remember a group of four, two
men and two women, who staggered into the
court and timidly knocked at the window.
Three of them were glad to accept soup and
wine, but the fourth, a middle-aged woman,
sank down on the steps and buried her head in
her hands.

"Why doesn't one of you men relieve her of
that heavy parcel she has strapped to her
shoulders?" I asked.

"She won't let us touch it. She's never put
it aside a minute since we left home six days
ago!"

"Is it as precious as all that?" I queried,
eyeing the huge flat package which might have
been the size of the double sheet of some daily
paper.

"It's her son's picture. He's gone to the
army and she's alone in the world."

"But why on earth is she carrying frame,
glass, and all? It must be nearly killing her in
this heat!"

"Madame," said the woman's friend sol-
[147]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

emnly, "she worked six months and put all her
savings into that frame! Do you wonder she
did not wish to leave it behind!"

I opened a side door and showed them a foot
path across the hills, a short cut which car-
riages could not take, and was just turning
the key in the lock when the telephone rang.

That was the first time since the second of
August ! What could it mean ? Probably the
arrival of wounded. I literally flew to answer
the call.

I had some little difficulty recognizing
Mademoiselle Mauxpoix' voice: it was trem-
bling with emotion. She greeted me politely
and then begging me not to be too alarmed,
she announced that she had just received
official orders to put all her telephones and
telegraphic apparatus out of working order
— to damage them so that repairs would be
impossible.

"I have ten minutes more left," she con-
tinued. "A government motor is coming at
four o'clock to take me, my employees and my
books to Tours."

"But, Mademoiselle "

She did not heed my interruption. "You
[148]

»-— ^

NOISY ROLLING SOUNDS TOLD ME THAT ARTILLERY
WAS CROSSING THE CITY [Page 192]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

cannot stay, Madame Huard ! You must not !
No woman is safe on their path. I know this
better than you, for I have been receiving
official reports for more than a month! The
worst is true! For the love of heaven, go —
you've still got a chance though there's hard
fighting going on in the streets of Chateau-
Thierry! For God's sake, don't hesitate.
Adieu."

She was gone ! And I stood there dazed !

"Hard fighting at Chateau-Thierry! That's
only seven miles from here." I counted.

Go? Go where? How? Go and abandon
my post, with Yvonne still too ill to move, and
all the others depending on my help ! Go ? By
what means, when my only horse was too lame
to cross the courtyard! It was far better to
stay and defend one's belongings!

And then as I slowl}^ returned through the
corridors, it occurred to me that in spite of my
desire to stay I might be forced out. Suppose
the chateau should suddenly become the target
for the German guns ? Well, we could all take
to the cellars, as the others had done in 1870.
But — and here was the point — suppose the
French took possession and gave us women
[149]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

but a few minutes to leave before the battle
began. Then what ! Here was food for reflec-
tion. I resolved to take Madame Guix and the
two boys into my confidence. Four heads were
better than one !

They received the news calmly, and I almost
caught a glimpse of a twinkle in George's and
Leon's eyes. The excitement pleased them.

If what Mademoiselle Mauxpoix had said
was true, the Germans were now on their way
to Villiers. It was evident that the French
were putting up a stubborn resistance, but
there was little hope of their stopping them
before they reached our vicinity. Battle meant
destruction of lives and property. Well, since
we still possessed the former, it was high time
to think of saving the latter. The sun was
fast sinking behind the pine trees. In an hour
it would be dark. What I decided to do must
be done at once.

"George and Leon, bring down my two big
trunks, and tell Nini to hitch the donkey to his
flat cart and drive to the side door." I had
resolved to save what I could of H.'s work, and
going to the studio closet, I began selecting
the portfolios containing mounted drawings
[150]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

and etchings. It was useless to think of the
paintings. They were too big. The trunks
were full in no time. I had no other recep-
tacles, so reluctantly closed the but half empty
cupboards, consoling myself with the thought
that all this was possibly useless preparation,
and praying Heaven that I had made a good
choice among the portfolios in case the worst
came.

The boys put the trunks onto the cart and
set off in the direction of a sand quarry, where
I knew we could dig in safety, and easily cause
a miniature landslide, which would cover all
traces of our hidden treasure. I promised to
join them in an hour — the time I judged it
would take them to make so large an excava-
tion, and returning to my room, gathered my
jewels and papers into a little valise, and put
them beside my fur coat and my kodak. A few
other trinkets and innumerable photographs
and letters were locked in my desk, and per-
ceiving that it would be utterly impossible to
carry them with me, I wondered how on earth
I might protect them. Suddenly I bethought
me of a tiny silk American flag that my mother
had given me years before, when as a child I
[151]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

left home for my first trip to Europe. I found
it where I hoped, and shutting one edge of it
into the drawer, I let the stripes hang down-
ward and pinned the following inscription into
its folds :

^'I swear that the contents of this desk are
purely personal and can he of value to no one
hut myself, I therefore leave it under the pro-
tection of my country's fiagf'

I felt very proud when I had done this and
then hurried into my dressing-room where I
hastily filled my suit-case with a few warm
underclothes, a change of costume, and an
extra pair of shoes. I had about finished and
was heartily glad that this useless job was
over, when on glancing out of the window I
caught sight of fuzzy-haired Madame La
Miche driving up the avenue in her dog
cart.

Madame La Miche and her husband run a
big stock farm near Neuilly St. Front, some
fifteen miles from Villiers. I had often seen
her at poultry and agricultural shows, where
their farm products usually carried off any
number of prizes. It was she who sold me my
cows hardly a year since.
[152]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

"You?" I said, as she drew up to the steps.

"Yes. En route — hke all the others. Our
entire fortune is in live stock and I'm going to
try to save as much as I can. May we
come in?"

Certainly — and a half -hour later one of the
largest farms in France had been moved bodily
into my pasture land! The whole thing was
conducted in a very orderly manner by M. La
Miche, who on horseback drew up the rear of
this immense cavalcade composed of some two
hundred white oxen, hitched two abreast, sev-
enty or eighty horses, as many mares with
young colts, and heaven knows how many cows
and calves; all accompanied by the stable
hands. Poor tired beasts, how greedily they
drank the cool water of our spring, and how
willingly the cunning little colts, whose tender
hoofs had been worn to the quick by their un-
heard-of journey, allowed the men to tie up
their feet in coarse linen bandages with strips
of old carpet for protection.

Madame La Miche had been officially evacu-
ated at noon, so I did not hesitate to tell her
what I had heard. She was not surprised, and
said she intended leaving at midnight, but her
[153]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

animals, unaccustomed to such exercise, must
have a few hours' rest.

In the kitchen I found George and Leon,
who had accomphshed their task sooner than I
expected. Relying on their word that it was
impossible to tell where they had buried the
trunks, I did not go back to the sand quarry.
Half a mile was a distance to be considered,
under the circumstances.

While all this had been going on, Madame
Guix had taken Julie into her confidence and
asked her if she would follow us if we were
obliged to leave. Julie is a native of Villiers,
and her husband and children live in a little
house near by. She had consulted her lord and
they were willing to lend their big dray horse
if they could all join our party. Of course we
agreed and while it was light, we decided to
put some bags of oats into the bottom of our
hay-cart, to cover these with hay, and then
all the servants could pile on, the boys taking
turns at walking since Yvonne must have room
to be stretched out.

How I hated all this business! Madame
Guix then counted the number of persons com-
posing our party, and sent Nini to fetch as
[154]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

many blankets and pillows. These, with a box
containing salt, sugar, chocolate, and other dry
provisions, a valise packed with a few bandages
and a little medicine, were put onto a little light
farm-cart to which we might harness Cesar in
case of great emergency.

The two vehicles when loaded were run into
an empty carriage house, whose door I locked,
rather ashamed of my precautions.

Night had fallen and the incoming stream
of refugees demanded our every attention.
Madame Guix was occupied with two women
whose physical condition was such that it was
impossible to refuse them beds, come what
might — and as I crossed the vestibule in search
of some instruments, the shadow of a woman
and two little girls came up the steps. "Could
I give them lodgings?" begged the poor soul. I
looked at her — she was so frightened that it
was most pathetic, and the two curly-headed
children clung to her skirts and shivered.

"I've never been alone before," she ex-
plained, and her teeth fairly chattered with
terror. "I can pay, and pay well — I've thirty
thousand francs in gold on me."

"Then, for Heaven's sake, don't let anyone
[155]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

know it !" I said, very abruptly. "I don't want
money, but there are others who may. Be
careful — a fortune like that may lead to your
destruction. Hide it!"

She stared at me in amazement. Evidently
the idea that dishonesty existed never occurred
to her. She thanked me for the advice and
hoped she had not offended me, and begged
me to take pity on Her.

"Did anyone see you come in here?"

She thought not.

"For if they did I fear you will have to share
the common lot. I have no reason to give you
preference. The others might protest."

I stuck my head out of the doorway. When I
turned around, those three helpless creatures
stood clinging to one another in the big empty
vestibule, making a most pitiable gi^oup.

"Go up two flights of stairs — turn to your
left and follow the corridor to the end. The
last door on your left opens into a room with
a huge double bed. It was too big for our
hospital. That's the only reason we didn't
bring it down. It's at your disposal. Don't
thank me. Good-night."

When I got a moment I went to Yvonne's
[156]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

room. "Did she think she could get up a little :
long enough to take some dinner? Perhaps
she might put on a few clothes and make an
effort to walk around her room." Ten days in
bed had made her very weak. She must try
to gain a little strength. She promised and I
departed. The idea of carrying her out bodily
was anything but encouraging !

At six-thirty the public distribution of soup
recommenced. Who my guests were I have
no idea. There were more than a hundred of
them. That was clear enough from the dishes
that were left. Just as the last round had
been served, George came in to say that the
village was beginning to get uneasy — people
from Neuilly St. Front and Lucy-le-Bocage
and Essommes had already passed down the
road, and the peasants looked to the chateau
for a decision !

I went out to the gate. Yes, true enough,
our neighbors from Lucy (five miles distant)
had joined the procession. Then there was a
break, and a lull, such as had not occurred for
two days, and in the silence I again recognized
the same clattering sound that had caught my
ear on the hill top the afternoon before. This
[157]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

time it was much more distinct, but was soon
drowned out by the rumbling of heavy wheels
on the road.

Surely this time it was artillery !

I wrapped my shawl closer about me and
sat down on the low stone wall that borders the
moat, while little groups of peasants, unable
to sleep, clustered together on the roadside.

]^J^earer and nearer drew the clanking noise
and presently a whole regiment of perambula-
tors, four abreast, swung around the corner
into the moonlight.

Domptin !

Domptin, our neighboring village, one mile
up the road, had caught the fever and was
moving out wholesale, transporting its ill and
decrepit, its children and chattels, in heaven
knows how many baby carriages !

I had never seen so many in all my life.
The effect was altogether comic, and Madame
Guix and I could not resist laughing — much
to the dismay of these poor souls who saw
little amusement at being obliged to leave home
scantily clad in night clothes.

They passed on, without further comment,
and the last man had hardly turned the corner
[ 158 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

when a scream coming from up the road drew
us to our feet, and sent us running in that
direction. Almost instantly, the figure of an
old white-capped peasant woman appeared in
the distance. She was wringing her hands and
crying aloud. When we were within ear shot,
I caught the word, "Uhlans!"

"Uhlans! Where?"

''Dans le hois de la M azure T (A half-mile
from Villiers.)

"How do you know?"

"Saw their helmets glittering in the moon-
light!"

"What rot! They're Frenchmen — dragoons.
You don't know your own countrymen when
you see them! Did you approach them?"

"No."

"Then what in the name of common sense
sent you flying down here to scare us like that ?
You've got no business spreading panic broad-
cast. If you don't turn around and scamper
home, the way you came, I'll have you arrested.
Allezr

My nerves had stood the strain as long as
possible. This false alarm had roused my anger
and in a jiffy I could see how thousands of
[159]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

people had been deceived, and were now erring
homeless along the roads of France!

"You can do what you like," I said, turning
to the others, "but I've had enough of this for
one day — I'm going to bed. Good-night,
gentlemen."

"The chatelaine is going to bed, the chate-
laine is going to bed!" "Let all go to bed," and
similar phrases were echoed among the groups
and presently we all separated, after many
cordial a demain.

The clock in the village church was striking
midnight when I finally retired, after calling
my greyhounds and Betsy into my room, and
assuring myself that they all had on their col-
lars, and that their leashes were hanging on
my bed post.

Nini, the little traitor, had evidently told
Yvonne of my preparations for departure, and
the two girls, whose beds were in the next room
to mine, had been unable to close their eyes,
for as I blew out my lamp, I could hear their
childish voices repeating the rosary:

"Hail Mary full of Grace — the Lord is
with Thee . . ."

[160]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I may have slept an hour. Then I can dhuly
remember hearing a wild yelp from my dogs,
and when I found myself in the middle of my
room rubbing my eyes, Yvonne was calling,
"Madame! Madame!" in terrified tones. My
pets were mad with excitement, and the sound
of the farm bell was ringing in my ears !

"Silence!" I yelled.

Everything but the bell ceased.

Heedless of my attire, I rushed to a back
window and repeated my command.

The bell stopped.

"Who are you that you dare wake us like
that!" I scolded.

A boy between eighteen and nineteen let go
the rope and stepped beneath the window. I
could see his blond hair in the moonlight.

"Are you Madame Huard?"

"Yes."

"I've come with a message from your hus-
band."

I grew cold as ice. Good God, what had
happened?

[161]

In a bound I was down stairs and had
opened the front door.

"Is H. wounded?" I gasped.

"No, Madame."

I breathed again.

"Where was he when you saw him?"

"On the road between Villers-Cotterets and
La Ferte Milon."

"What's your message?"

The boy put his hand to his breast pocket
and drew forth a shp of paper. The full moon
shining on the white facade of the chateau
threw such a brilliant reflection that I recog-
nized a sheet from a sketch book, and could
distinguish the following words scribbled in
pencil :

"Give bearer fifty francs, then in the name
of the love you bear me, evacuate now; go
south, not Paris."

The last words were underscored three or
four times.

[162]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUK

"What time was it when H. gave you this?"

"Noon or thereabouts."

"How did you come? On foot?"

"No, bicycle."

"But it's after midnight!"

"I know, but I got lost and had three bad
punctures."

Here were marching orders for fair, and if
I intended obeying enough time had already
been lost. To stay in spite of everything was
to be responsible for all the young lives that
looked to me for protection. Could I promise
it ? No. Then go it was !

At that same moment and as though to
reinforce my decision, the strange clattering
noise I had observed growing nearer and nearer
during the last two days broke on the night air.

"Hark!" said the boy. ''La mitrailleuse^

"The machine guns!" I echoed.

''Oui, Madame/'

That sufficed. "We'll be leaving in ten
minutes. Go to the kitchen. I'll send someone
to look after you and we'll go together."

All this had transpired in less time than it
takes to tell it. Awakened by the bell, the
refugees in the stables came pouring into the
[163]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

courtyard. A second later, George, lantern in
hand, came running towards me.

"Tell Leon to harness Cesar — then go and
wake Julie and say that we are leaving in ten
minutes. I expect her, and her family, with
their horse, to be ready. The courtyard in ten
minutes. Mind!"

On the landing I met Madame Guix already
fully dressed.

''Nous partonsf' was all I said. She under-
stood and followed me towards Yvonne's room.

The two children, their teeth chattering,
looked towards us in terror.

"Nini, put on the warmest clothes you pos-
sess and help Madame Guix to dress Yvonne.
Then go to the kitchen and wait there without
moving."

My own toilet was brief, and five minutes
later, lamp in hand, I was pounding on all
the doors of the long corridors, fearful lest
some one be forgotten and locked in the house.
When I reached the second floor I bethought
me of the woman and her two children, and as
I advanced I called, "Don't be frightened.
This is merely a warning!"

The poor soul must have been dreaming,
[ 164 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

for when I touched her door she screamed, and
as I opened it and held the lamp over my head,
I could see the two little creatures clinging to
their mother, who on her knees begged, "Take
me, but spare my babies!"

I had some difficulty in reassuring her, but
finally succeeded, and left her to go below to
the hospital.

At the first alarm, the women who were
sleeping there had fled in terror, and when
assured that all were gone, for safety's sake
I went into the vestibule and standing at the
foot of the stairs, called, "All out! All out!
I'm closing up and leaving!"

No one answering, I judged that my sum-
mons had been obeyed, and so hurried back to
my own room to fetch jewels, kodak and pets.
On my way down I opened H.'s wardrobe and
grabbed several overcoats, confident that the
boys would forget theirs and need them.

In the courtyard I found Julie and her
family already perched on the hay-cart, where
Yvonne had been hoisted and lay moaning,
well covered in a blanket. Both horses were
hitched and my servants waiting orders. Be-
side ours, other big drays were being prepared
[165]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

for flight, yet there was no confusion — no loud
talking — no lamenting. I then told the boys
to hurry to the farm yard and open all the
gates so that the poultry and cows could have
free access to the entire estate, which is closed
in by a wall. I was thus certain that though
they might feel hungry they would not die for
want of food or water during the short time I
intended to be gone.

This done, I went to the kitchen where I
found Nini, who had obeyed orders not to move
but who had presence of mind enough to lay
out bread and jam and wine for the famished
youth who had brought the message.

In the lamplight I caught sight of my road
maps on the refectory wall, and setting my
jewel box on the table I began unpinning and
carefully folding them and put them in the
pocket of my motor coat. Almost at the same
instant, the lamp flickered and Leon came in
to say that all the dogs were found save the
beagle hound and three fox terrier puppies,
who, frightened by the bell and the commotion,
had hidden in the hay lofts. We went out,
and I called and whistled in vain — none of
them appeared.

[166]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

All this had taken more time than I ex-
pected. The wagons full of refugees had dis-
appeared, and we were alone.

''En router I called, climbing into the
charette, a big lump rising in my throat.

''En router called George.

Once again I counted our party to be sure
all were there, and then slowly the heavy-laden
hay-cart pulled out of the courtyard onto the
high road.

The first ten steps that my horse took he
limped so painfully that my heart sank in my
boots.

What nonsense, this departure! The poor
beast would break down and we'd have to shoot
him by the wayside, and other similar cheerful
thoughts fled through my brain as we jogged
up the narrow village street.

In front of the town hall I halted, first of
all to rest my steed, secondly to await George
and Leon, who had remained behind to shut
the entrance doors and bolt the gate, and finally
because I was astonished to see all the windows
illuminated.

I jumped down and approaching one of the
panes looked through and saw the entire
[167]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

municipal council seated in a semi-circle, their
faces grave with anxiety. Presently the boys,
accompanied by H.'s messenger, rode up on
their bicycles and handed me the keys. I
entered the room where Mr. Duguey, the
schoolmaster and town clerk, greeted me.

"Gentlemen, I've come to give you the keys
to my estate. I've received a message from
my husband begging me to leave at once."

"Then make haste, Madame, while there is
still time. We are just about to beat the call
to arms and warn the population that those
who hope to escape must leave at once. Though
we have no official orders to do this we have
taken it on ourselves, for we now know for
certain that the Uhlans have surrounded the
village and are awaiting daylight to take pos-
session. They are probably bivouacking on
the heights in your park."

Then the old peasant woman had not lied!
Those were really Uhlans she had seen in the
bois de la Mazure, Ye gods, and here I was
trying to get away with a lame horse ! Thank
heaven, the Marne was not far ! I would cross
it and then await developments.

The clock in the little church struck two
[168]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

and an owl hooted mournfully in the belfry as
silently our cortege plodded up the steep in-
cline. When we reached the summit I could
not resist turning around and casting a long
affectionate glance on my lovely home — shin-
ing like a fairy palace in its setting of won-
derful trees. Who could tell? I might never
see it again!

George, too, must have been penetrated with
the same sentiment, for he rode up close to the
cart and grasping the mud guard, turned on
his saddle and wistfully shaking his head, gave
vent to his feelings by the following very in-
elegant but extremely expressive ejaculation:

"Quels cochons! vous chasser dfune propriete
pareiller

A long shiver of emotion crept down my
spine, and though it was but the second of
September I instinctively drew the fur collar
of my coat closer about my throat.

In front of me I could hear the wheels of
our heavy-laden hay-cart creaking as the big
farm horse plodded on. Its occupants were
silent, and thanks to the moon and the lantern
which hung up high behind, I could see Julie
and Madame Guix nodding with sleep.
[169]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

My own poor beast limped on and besides
thinking of all that I had left undone at the
chateau and planning how and where we could
go, I had the constant vision of his silent
suffering in front of me. At every little incline
I would get down and throwing the reins over
the neck of Betsy, my bull dog, who occupied
the seat beside me, I would give Cesar his head
and take my place with the boys behind. He
seemed to be grateful.

Let it be said, however, that as our journey
advanced the hoof, at first so tender from much
poulticing, became firmer and firmer, and in-
stead of increasing, the lameness rather grew
less.

We crossed our little market town of Charly
amid dead silence. Not a light in a single
window, not a sound anywhere. We seemed
to be the only souls astir, and the foolhardiness
of this midnight departure when everyone else
was tucked up snug in his bed, angered me.
I was seized with a mad desire to turn about
and go home.

Just then George asked me which direction
I intended taking, and remembering H.'s im-
perative ''Go south'' we turned sharp and
[170]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

headed for the first bridge across the
Marne.

High in front of me rose the dark wooded
hills of Pavant, descending abruptly to that
narrow strip of fertile plain which borders the
river on both sides, but now half -veiled in a
heavy blue mist. Below me the swift current
sped onward like a silver arrow, and before so
impressive a spectacle I could not help thinking
how meagre is the art of the scene painter and
dramatist which tries to depict a real battle-
field. For battle field I felt this was, and my
overstrained nerves no longer holding my
imagination in check, I could already see
human forms writhing in agony, and hear the
moaning of souls on the brink of Eternity. As
though to vivify this hallucination, the dying
moon suddenly plunged behind a cloud, light-
ing the landscape but by strange lugubrious
streaks, and in the distance behind us a long
low rumble warned me that my dream might
soon be a terrible reality.

The Marne crossed, a weight was lifted from

my shoulders, and settling back against the

pile of blankets in my rig, I let the horse follow

his own sweet will and we started to zig-zag up

[171]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

a steep incline. At the end of five minutes'
time I was so benumbed by the cold that sleep
was impossible, so I left my seat and joined
the others who, all save Yvonne, had been
obliged to descend to relieve their horse. What
a climb that was — seven long kilometres from
right to left, winding around that hill, as about
a mountain, ever and again finding ourselves
on a narrow ledge overlooking the valley. The
fog had spread until literally choked up be-
tween the hills and I could hardly persuade
myself that it was not the sea that rolled below
me. Even the signal lamps on the distant
railway line rose out of the labyrinth like a
lighthouse in mid-ocean, making the illusion
complete.

Dawn was breaking as we reached the
summit and pausing for a moment's breath,
we could see people with bundles hurrying
from cottages and farm yards, while the fields
seemed dotted with horses and carts that
sprang out of the semi-darkness like spectres,
following one another to the highway. In less
than no time the long caravan had re-formed
and was again under way.

We brought up the rear, preceded by five
[172]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

hundred snow-white oxen. There was no way
of advancing faster than the cortege. It was
stay in Hne or lose your place, and as the sun
rose over the plains, I was so impressed by the
magnificence of our procession that I forgot
the real cause of our flight and never for an
instant realized that I now formed an intimate
part of that column which but a few hours
since inspired me with such genuine pity.

As we passed through a small agglomera-
tion of houses that one might hardly call a
village, I recognized several familiar faces on
the doorsteps, and presently comprehended
why Charly was so dark and silent the night
before. It was empty — evacuated — and the
greater part of its inhabitants were here on
the roadside, preparing to continue their
route.

Where were we going? I think none of us
had a very definite idea. We were following
in line on the only road that crossed this won-
derfully fertile country. The monotony of the
landscape, the warmth of the sun, added to
the gentle swing of my cart calmed my nerves
and I fell back into a heavy sleep.

When I opened my eyes I could hear water
[173]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

running over a dam, and see below me and but
a very short distance away, a river flowing
through a valley. Someone said it was the
Petit Morin; another announced that we had
come seventeen kilometres and a third prof-
fered that it was 6:30 A. M. — time for break-
fast. We ought not to attack the opposite hill
on empty stomachs.

Accordingly we crossed the Petit Morin and
broke ranks in front of two little cottages that
bordered the river at the entrance of an electric
power house. At the same time, a small covered
gig halted beside our big cart and from it
descended the mother of the two little girls —
she who had so much gold.

Did I mind if she followed in our wake?

Of course not.

She was still as timid and frightened as the
night before, and it didn't take much question-
ing to learn that she had never had a pair of
reins in her hands before in her life.

The boys took all the horses down to the
river and carefully bathed their knees and legs.
In the meantime, coffee had been found and
ground, someone had scurried about and found
a house where milk could be had, and on an iron
[174]

^»-i

'3^

9

-^d

-?t

AS WE CROSSED THE PUBLIC SQUARE THE AMBULANCES
WERE LINING UP IN BATTLE ARRAY [Page 235]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

tripod that I had sense enough to bring along,
water was set to boihng.

It was very amusing that first picnic break-
fast, and my! what appetites we had. The
summer lodgers in one of the cottages gazed
upon us in amazement — all save one little girl
who, so it seems, had had a presentiment that
some ill would befall her and for two days had
not ceased weeping.

The meal over, each one went to my cart and
taking possession of a blanket and pillow,
rolled up in it and went fast asleep in the bril-
liant sunshine. How we blessed those warm,
penetrating rays, for we had suffered much
from the damp cold all night.

Left alone, I overhauled my wagon and
made the discovery that my jewel box was
missing. That did not alarm me much, for I
was confident that I had left it on the refectory
table, and would find it — like my silver chests
— just where I had left them.

My road map showed us to be at La Tre-
toire, midway between Charly and Rebais, but
as there were no provisions to be had in so
small a place, I decided to push on to the town-
ship where we might be able to get lodgings.
[ 175 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

This, however, must be done before noon, or
we would be obliged to sleep out of doors again,
for it would be impossible to travel through
the heat of the day. Accordingly, at half past
eight, I roused the boys and we started up the
hill, bag and baggage.

It was much the same kind of scene as at
Pavant, only we were less excited and far more
exhausted than at the outset of our trip. Each
one stalked on, gritting his teeth and wiping
the big beads of perspiration from his brow.
By ten we reached the top and calling George,
who had been walking beside the leader
since we left home, I told him to take my
place in the charette and I would mount my
bicycle.

Leaving orders to follow the straight road
to Rebais, I pushed on ahead, promising to do
my best, and an hour later found myself on the
outskirts of the little town — very weary and
almost overcome by the heat. In the hurry of
my departure from Villiers I had wrapped a
scarlet chiffon scarf about my head, never
thinking that a hat would be a very useful
article in the daytime. For sixty minutes,
then, as I had pedaled along that endless road,
[176]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the sun had beaten down upon my head and
shoulders, and when I came upon a pubhc
pump, I dropped down in the grass beside it,
after wringing out my handkerchief in its re-
freshing water and bathing my burning face
and arms.

When I finally made my entrance into
Rebais, I found that thousands of other per-
sons had probably had the same idea as I and
it took but little time to discover that all rooms,
whether private or public, were occupied. The
place was overflowing with refugees. The
line outside the baker's shop warned me that
I had a dozen hungry mouths dependent upon
me and yesterday's supply of bread was well-
nigh exhausted, let alone being stale. I took
my place among the others and stood for a
good hour waiting for the second ovenful to
finish baking.

Certainly no greasy pig at a county fair
was ever more difficult to manage than that
long nine-pound loaf of red hot bread. There
was no way of handling it — it burned every-
thing it touched. No sooner did I put it under
one arm than I was obliged to change it to the
other post haste. Add to this the fact that I
[177]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

had not ridden a bicycle since a child, and
realize that whether walking or riding the
bread was equally hot and equally cumbersome.
It was too long to fit into the handlebars, be-
sides how could I hold it there? Too soft to
be tied with string that I might buy. At one
moment I thought seriously of picking up my
skirt and carrying the bread as peasant women
do grass and fodder, but alas, a 1914 skirt was
too narrow to permit this. At length when
almost disheartened and I had stood my loaf
against the side of a house to cool, I recognized
a familiar voice back of me, and George ap-
peared on his wheel to announce that my party
had camped in a young orchard two miles out-
side of Rebais, neither man nor beast being
capable of going any farther. We clapped our
loaf into an overcoat that was strapped to the
back of his machine, and swinging it between
us, soon joined the others.

Our noonday repast was composed of cold
ham and fried potatoes. I think I never ate
better, though I must confess that the latter
were stolen from a neighboring field. By two
o'clock a dozen weary inhabitants of Villiers
were stretched out on their rugs and peace-
[178]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

fully dreaming ! We had decided to rest before
determining what to do for the night.

I was awakened by a stiff feeling in my neck,
and opened my eyes to find that the sun was
rapidly disappearing in the west. I had slept
soundly four hours and was much refreshed,
though the bumps in the ground had bruised
me, and I could hardly move my head.

Yvonne had stood the journey so far very
well though unable as yet to walk, but as the
cool of the evening came on I began to worry
lest a night out of doors set her screaming with
pain. So as I laced my boots, I decided to go
back to Rebais and make another desperate
attempt to lodge her at least.

"Did Madame see Maitre Baudoin this
morning," asked Leon, to whom I imparted my
plans.

I gasped! What a fool I was! My mind
was so upset that I had forgotten that my
own notary was a prominent personality in
Rebais.

A quarter of an hour later I turned into the
public square and beheld Maitre Baudoin and
his wife standing on the doorstep watching the
exodus of numerous refugees.
[ 179 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Madame Huard!" they exclaimed. "You?
What on earth has happened?"

I explained in a few words.

"Why, come right in. We were just going
to sit down to dinner."

I said I was not alone, and must first look
after the others. Without waiting a second,
Maitre Baudoin crossed over to the town hall
and soon returned with a key in his hand.

"Here, here's the key to a bakery — there are
rooms above. Your people can lodge there
and you come in with us. All this will be
over in a day or so; the news is good to-day.
The Germans will never reach the Marne!"

I went and fetched our delighted caravan,
and after safely depositing them in their new
residence, I was crossing the main street to
join my friends, when a big military auto
whisked into the middle of the square and
halted. Ten seconds later it was followed by a
dozen others, and by the time I had reached
the Baudoins' the Place was literally lined
with motors, containing officers and orderlies.
We were just sitting down when some one
pounded on the door and a deep authoritative
voice called out,

[180]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"You're to lodge a general and two officers !"
And we could hear the man hastily chalking
the names on the door.

Madame Baudoin looked from me to her
husband, her eyes wide open with astonish-
ment. The meal was forgotten and we hurried
out into the twilight to seek news. The Etat
Major of a cavalry division was to bivouac at
Rebais, would be leaving at midnight.

My friends understood, and they who had
not as yet seen a soldier since the war began,
realized for the first time that they were now
in the midst of the retreating army. I begged
them to make ready for flight and they hur-
ried homewards while I returned to the bakery
to hold council.

As I reached the door, someone touched me
on the shoulder and an officer, pointing to the
Red Cross armlet I was wearing, said:

"Go to the hospital at once. We need your
services. Wounded."

"Very well, sir," I replied, and stepped
inside.

"Madame Guix! Madame Guix!" I called
in the stairway from the shop.

The others came clattering down all excite-
[ 181 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

ment, saying that Madame Guix had been
recognized by her uniform and sent flying to
the hospital.

Just then a shadow barred the entrance
door and turning I saw an army chauffeur
standing there.

"A piece of bread for God's sake," he
begged.

"What?"

"Yes, I'm nearly dead of hunger. We've
had no time to cook our food, and bread has
been lacking for two days."

I looked about me — the bread boxes were
empty. I had no right to do so, but I opened
all the cupboards. The least I could do was
pay, if the bakers appeared. I found a stale
loaf and chopped it in four with the big knife
near the counter. The way that poor fellow
bit into it brought tears to my eyes.

"Wait a minute," I said as he turned away,
and I rushed out to the court where my cart
was standing. In a moment I was back with
a slice of ham and some sweet chocolate and
Julie came up with a glass of water.

I was about to ask questions when another
form appeared, followed by still another.
[182]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Bread — oh, for heaven's sake, bread!" they
implored. Apparently there was no reason
why I should not go on with my new trade
until all the hungry chauffeurs in the army
were satisfied. But remembering the wounded,
I turned over my job to Julie, with orders to
deal out the bread as long as it lasted and to
go lightly with the chocolate, as my provision
was not endless.

What a different aspect the main square
presented to that of an hour before! Motors
were lined up four deep on all sides, and I
was obliged to elbow my way through the
crowds of gapers, refugees, and officers that
thronged the street.

"Have you come for the wounded?" ques-
tioned a white-capped sister as I closed the
convent door and strode up the steps.

"Yes, sister."

"Heaven be praised! Come this way,
quickty. Your nurse is here, but cannot suffice
alone. We're of no use — there are only five
of us to look after the almshouse, and a hun-
dred refugees. We know nothing of surgery
or bandaging."

All this was said sweetly and quietly as we
[ 183 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

hurried down a long corridor. In the middle
of a big, well-lighted room stood Madame Guix
bandaging the arm of a fine looking fellow,
who shut his eyes and grated his teeth as she
worked. On a half-dozen chairs sat as many
men, some holding their heads in their hands,
some doubled in two, others clenching their
fists in agony. Not a murmur escaped them.
The floor in several places was stained with
great red patches.

"Quick, Madame Huard. We must stop the
hemorrhages at all costs. The wounds are not
bad, since the men have come on foot, but one
never can tell with this heat."

A sister tied a white apron around me and
in a second I had washed my hands and begun.

The first shirt I split, my heart leapt to my
lips. I was neither a novice nor a coward, but
the sight of human blood flowing so generously
and given so ungrudgingly, gave me a queer
feeling in my throat. A second later that had
all passed over and as I worked I questioned
the young fellows as to home and family —
and finally at what place they had been
wounded. Some did not know, others named
unfamiliar corners, but JLa Tretoire startled
[ 184 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

me. Our morning halt! Then the invaders
had crossed the Marne? For these were not
wounds from exploding shell but Mauser bul-
lets and pistol shots!

Meanwhile the sisters brought iron beds and
soft mattresses into the next room, and each
boy in turn was put to rest. Fortunately there
was nothing very serious, for we had no doctor
and knew not where to find one. When we
reached our last patient he was so limp that we
feared he would faint. Imagine, if you can,
what it is to cut away a stout pair of trooper's
boots, and undress an almost helpless man
whose clothes are fairly glued to the skin with
blood, dirt and perspiration.

"Hold the ammonia closer to his nose," said
Madame Guix, tugging at a wire that served
as boot lace.

"I'm afraid he's exhausted. There he
goes — " I had just time to catch the body as
it slid from the chair.

Madame Guix grasped his wrist.

"His pulse is good. Hold fast till I get
my needle."

The boy's lips parted and a familiar sound
filled the room.

[185]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"He's not fainted!" I gasped. "He's asleep!
Snoring!"

Poor little fellow, a bullet in the shoulder
and one in the shin, and yet fatigue had over-
come the pain ! When we finally had to wake
him, he apologized so nicely for the trouble
he had given us, and sighed with delight when
he touched the cool linen sheets.

"You must have found me a pretty mess. I
haven't been out of my saddle for three weeks,
and we've been fighting every minute since we
left Charleroi."

Our patients all asleep, Madame Guix and
I sought a moment's rest in the open. A door
in the corridor led out into a lovely old-world
garden, surrounded on four sides by a deli-
cately pilastered cloister. The harvest moon
shone down, covering everything with a silver
sheen, and such quiet and calm reigned that
it was almost impossible to believe that we
were not visitors to some famous landscape,
leisurely enjoying a long-planned trip.

We were given no time to dream, however,

for hasty footsteps in the corridor and the

appearance of a white-robed sister carrying a

gun, told us that our task was not yet finished.

[186]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

On a bench in the cloister, his head buried
in one arm, the other tied up in an impromptu
sling, we found a blue-coated soldier. He was
the image of despair, and though we gently
questioned him, he only shook his head from
side to side without answering. Finally I sat
down on the bench beside him and gently strok-
ing his well arm, pleaded that he would tell us
his trouble so that we might help him. He
drew his head up with a jerk, and turning on
me with an almost furious look in his big black
eyes, he snapped, "Are you married?"

"Yes."

"Then you know what it is. My God, my
wife and babies, shut up in Valenciennes. It
isn't this that's killing me," he continued, slap-
ping his bandaged arm. "It's only a flesh
wound in the shoulder. But it's the other — the
other thoughts. I've seen them at their work,
the pack of cursed cowards! but if they ever
touch my wife! Perhaps they have, the dirty
blackguards, and I'm not there to defend her.
Curse them all!"

And he beat his fist on his knees in rage.
Then anger, and agony having reached a
paroxysm, his lips trembled, his mouth
[187]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

twitched, and brusquely throwing his arm
around my neck, he buried his head on my
shoulder and burst into tears.

The first instant of surprise over, it would
have been stupid to be offended. The circum-
stances were such that it was impossible not
to be moved.

I had never seen a man weep before; I
never want to again. For a full quarter-hour
he sobbed like a child — this great sturdy fellow
of thirty-five, and through the mist in my eyes
I could see that my companion had turned her
back on us and was fumbling for her hand-
kerchief in her pocket.

Then little by little the choking sound dis-
appeared, his shoulders ceased to heave and
shake, and a moment later our soldier lifted his
head and blubbered an apology.

"Forgive me — you've done me so much good.
I know I'm a fool, but it had to come — I just
couldn't stand it another minute — " and other
similar phrases, which we nipped in the bud
by asking if he would like a cup of hot soup,
or come into the dispensary when we could
bandage his wound.

"Anywhere where it's light. I want you
[188]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

to see her picture — she'd think you're
great."

And so before he would let us touch his
wound, we had to feel in his breast pocket and
draw forth a wallet from which he produced
the cherished photographs.

At length we completed his bandaging and
I left Madame Guix to add the finishing
touches and went to the kitchen where Soeur
Laurent was standing over a huge range, la-
dling soup from two immense copper boilers.
There were men, women and children holding
out cups and mugs, a half-dozen dusty cavalry-
men were skinning two rabbits in one corner,
and as many other soldiers were peeling vege-
tables which they threw into another pot full
of boiling water.

This w^as no time to ask permission. The
poor sister was already half distracted by the
demands of the famished refugees and comba-
tants, so taking a ladle from the wall, I dipped
into the pot and strained some bouillon into
a few cups that I found in a cupboard. I
intended giving this to our patients should
they wake and call for drink, and I was just
lifting my tray to go when a loud thumping
[189]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

on the front door made me set it down in
haste.

I looked at Soeur Laurent, who was prepar-
ing to answer the summons, much to the dismay
of the soldiers.

"I'll go," I called, and hurried out into the
vestibule and down the wide white marble
steps. As I threw back the huge oak door
someone brushed past me, calling "Two men
and a stretcher," and there in the brilliant
moonlight I beheld the most ghastly spectacle
I had as yet witnessed.

Thrown forward in his saddle, his arms
clasped about the horse's neck, was the form
of a dragoon. The animal that bore him had
once been white, but was now so splashed with
blood that it was impossible to tell what color
was his originally. Both man and beast were
wounded, badly wounded, and how they had
come here was a miracle.

The alarm had reached the kitchen and
hurrying forward, the troopers soon lifted
their comrade from his mount and carried him
in. A lance had pierced his thigh and the
horse's flank, which meant that it had been a
hand-to-hand fight, and the blood still flowing
[ 190 ]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

freely, proved that the combat was not an hour

old!

when the white faces of my notary and his wife

Madame Guix and I were doing our best
appeared at the door of the dispensary.

*' Madame Huard, we've come to tell you
you must go!"

"Go?"

"Yes, it is two o'clock and the general who
was quartered on us slept four hours and has
gone. When leaving he warned us that the
battle would be on here by morning. We who
have a motor are safe, but you who have but
horses must flee at once!"

"But I can't leave the wounded!"

"But you must. The worst that can happen
to them is to be made prisoners — more than
likely they will be carried away by one of our
emergency ambulances. But think of all the
young people who look to you for protection !
You cannot desert them; you must go!"

I looked at Madame Guix.

"Go, Madame Huard, you must. You owe
it to the others. None of you need me and I
can be of service here, so if the sisters will keep
me I'll stay."

[191]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Reluctantly I shook hands with my nurse,
and hastened down the steps. Maitre Baudoin
and his wife took leave of me at the corner,
and I elbowed my way between the horses of
a cavalry regiment, whose riders were sound
asleep on the hard cobble pavement beside
them.

On the further side of the square noisy roll-
ing sounds told me that the artillery was cross-
ing the city, and mounting a doorstep, I beheld
battery after battery of the famous Seventy-
fives clattering out of sight over the road we
had come by in the morning. When I got
down, I found my way blocked by the 18th
Chasseurs a cheval, who, four abreast and lance
in hand, were setting out for battle. They
were anything but a beaten army — most of
them were softly humming some popular song,
while others were calmly filling their pipes and
still others catching forty winks in their
saddles. One or two I noticed wore no caps,
and their heads were boimd in blood-stained
bandages.

There seemed to be no end to them and I
was beginning to get anxious about our de-
parture. Plunging my hand into my coat
[ 192 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

pocket I touched a piece of stale bread and a
bit of chocolate, forgotten since the day before,
and hunger having seized me, I began gnawing
my crust.

"Say, sister, give us a bite," called one young
chap from his horse as he passed.

"Are you really hungry?"

"You bet!"

Without hesitating I offered my crust.

"Hurray for the girl with the red scarf!"
called another. "Come on with us. We'll
make room for you." "We need a mascot,"
and other similar jolly phrases passed from
mouth to mouth as gaily the flower of young
France went forth to death.

When finally they had disappeared I rushed
across the street to find George and Emile
(H.'s messenger) engaged in a conversation
with the driver of an army supply wagon
drawn up within an inch of the bakery steps.
Beside him on the seat sat a huge dragoon, his
head done up in a blood-stained towel.

"We're lost," he was explaining. "Been cut
off from our regiment for three days."

"Poor regiment!" I murmured, and calling
the boys, I told Emile to wake the others and
[193]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

come down quickly to help hitch the horses.
He was only gone a second, and I could hear
him calling.

''Allons, allons, Madame part de suite/'

Then he reappeared carrying a lantern.

"Where the devil did you get the light?"
growled George.

"In their room."

"Then how in the name of heaven do you
expect those people to dress and roll up their
belongings in the dark?" I scolded. "Here,
George, go back with the lantern."

George obeyed orders, and Emile, rather
sheepishly, skulked away in the direction of
the stable yard. I heard a sliding door pushed
open, followed by a long low whistle, and a
second later Emile reappeared, his eyes pop-
ping out of his head with astonishment.

"There's a horse missing — been stolen!"

"No! Impossible!"

"The stable's empty!"

I hurried to the spot, and found that he told
the truth.

"George!" I called, as my boy came around
the corner of the house. "George, Cesar's been
stolen!"

[194]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

**Who says so, Madame?"

*'Emile — the stable's empty."

Calmly and easily George walked over to-
wards Emile, and taking him by the collar,
shook him violently. "Look here, you! What
do you mean by frightening Madame like that?
Are you her servant? No! Well, then, mind
your own business!"

And opening a second door alongside the
other, we found Cesar and Sausage munching
their oats.

It was no easy job harnessing in the dark
and backing the heavy carts out of the narrow
yard into the still narrower street. But in ten
minutes our caravan was again en route.

We crossed the public square, now almost
empty of men, horses and motors, and took
the only road leading south.

The first grey streaks of daylight lighted the
east as we turned the corner, and we were
obliged to pull suddenly to the extreme right,
for a heavy Parisian motorbus swung round
the bend and rushed on past us.

Straining my eyes, I perceived that there
was not one but hundreds of them, following
each other at top speed down the hill. There
[195]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

were armed men standing inside them, armed
men on the platforms and steps, armed men
even on the roofs and it was indeed a strange
sight to see Madeleine-Bastille and the Galeries
Lafayette out here in the open country,
jammed full of grim infantrymen preparing
for the fray.

Suddenly a tremendous explosion rent the
air and shook the ground so that the horses
stopped and trembled.

"There goes the bridge at Nogent!" cried
George. "No — the power house at La
Tretoire!"

^'En avantr I called, knowing that the
signal for battle had now been given.

[196]

VI

We had gone about two miles when the sight
of my greyhounds tied behind the farm cart
made me think of my httle Boston bull.

"Where's Betsy?" I asked of those perched
on the hay.

Julie, Nini and Yvonne grew white.

It took little time to discover that no one had
seen her that morning. It was evident she had
been forgotten — left to die tied to the brass
rail inside an abandoned bakery, for it was
there I had fastened her on arriving the night
before. Pedaling ahead till I reached Leon
who led the procession —

"Keep straight on this road. If it should
fork, take the direction of the La Ferte-
Gauche. I'll be back in no time." Then turn-
ing about, I started a parallel race with an
autobus, much to the delight of the occupants.

Useless to say that my adversary gained on
the up-grade, turned the corner, was gone, and
was followed by another long before I reached
[ 197 1

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the public square, breathless and full of
anxiety.

Rebais was empty — not even a tardy refugee
straggled by the wayside, and before I reached
the bakery I could hear the plaintive howls
of my little brute.

What a joyful welcome I received. What
hilarious waggings of that little screw tail ! But
there was no time to be lost, for the problem
now was how Betsy was to catch up with the
procession. She was too heavy for me to carry
under my arm, and too old and puffy to be
expected to follow a bicycle — but it was one
or the other, and tying her leash to the handle
bar, off we started, after an encouraging pat
on the head and the promise of a lump of sugar
if she would only "be a good girl."

On we sped, past the huge lumbering motor-
buses, which terrified the poor animal who
tugged vehemently at her string, at times al-
most choking herself.

In half an hour we had caught up with the
caravan, and as I lifted poor exhausted Betsy
on to the hay, Nini roused from her dozing and
pointing to the east, said, "Oh, look! what a
big fire!"

[198]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"You silly child, it's the sun rising; go back
to sleep," I said, terrified by what I had seen,
but unwilling to alarm the others uselessly.

At the skyline of an immense plain that
stretched on our left, huge columns of flame
burst heavenward, covered a moment later by
dense black smoke. Fortunately, however, the
sun peeped over the horizon almost instantly,
thereby diminishing the intensity of the con-
flagration. But Nini was not to be thus hood-
winked.

"See," she continued, "what funny little
fluffy clouds those are!"

"Nini, if you don't go to sleep at once you'll
have to get down and walk, and let one of the
boys take your place. They'll be only too
glad to, I know."

Nini obeyed instantly. She had come away
with but one pair of shoes (in spite of my
admonition to take all the footwear she pos-
sessed) and that pair of shoes pinched.

Funny little fluffy clouds indeed! The
shaking of the earth beneath my feet and a
second of reflection told me they were not
clouds, but shells — and how long it would be
before they would be directed westward was
[199]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

a question that chilled the blood in my
veins.

The town we were heading for — La Ferte-
Gauche — lay southeast. Though I had no
glass, it was evident that it was now under the
enemies' fire, and we might just as well run
our necks into a noose as keep on in that direc-
tion. It was southwest — or nothing.

Without offering any explanation I rode
ahead and told Leon to follow me. Then
turning abruptly to the right, I took the first
sidepath that was wide enough for our cart
wheels, and in and out, up and down, we fol-
lowed it for over an hour, until coasting down
a steep incline, I found myself in the midst
of a delightful little village, nestled between
two hills on the border of a river.

The shops were just opening and people
were going about their work as if nothing un-
usual were happening. They gazed in aston-
ishment at this hatless bicyclist, who wore a
Red Cross armlet, and when I went into the
baker shop, I was filled with joy at the sight
of all the crisp loaves lined up in their racks
ready for delivery.

Refugees ?

[200]

A

i

"X, „ -^I

-J'

i

'■^^'■\>^:.^

i^i'.

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

They hadn't seen any. Someone had heard
an unaccustomed movement of wagons during
the night, that was all.

A signpost, as I turned into the square, told
me that I was at Jouy-sur-Morin, and a few
moments later, I came upon a group of gentle-
men in frock coats standing talking on an em-
bankment below the church. If it had been
in the afternoon instead of five A. M., I should
have thought this assembly perfectly in har-
mony with the landscape. In fact they looked
so much like H.'s caricatures of his provincial
compatriots that I couldn't help smiling as I
passed. This matutinal gathering of the muni-
cipal council was the only outward sign of
anxiety to be found in this picturesque town-
ship.

The arrival of our caravan produced quite
a sensation among the early risers at Jouy,
though the enthusiasm for telling their
story had somewhat subsided among my
servants. They were footsore, sleepy, and
hungry.

The gentlemen in frock coats were too busy
in their own affairs to give us much attention,
and I was about to leave when one of them
[201]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

called me over and asked a few questions.
Anxious to be off, I answered briefly. The
man probably took me for a poor demented
female; how could he think otherwise down
here in his little valley, where not a sound of
gun and shell had penetrated as yet?

History will tell you how, a few hours later,
Jouy-sur-Morin was the scene of one of the
bloodiest battles of the Marne.

At the dairy, my appearance aroused much
curiosity, and when I brought out the money
to pay for my milk, the woman held up her
hand. "No, never; I couldn't take pay from
such forlorn creatures as you!"

This unexpected pity brought the blood to
my cheeks. I was hot with indignation. Until
now we had wanted for nothing, and with gold
in my pocket charity was an insult. I straight-
ened my tie, looked at my dusty boots, and
realized for the first time that my face was
drawn with fatigue and anxiety — that my hair,
though tidy, was sadly out of curl. Leaving
my change on the table, I turned on my heel
and departed. Explanations were tiresome
and useless.

We crossed a railroad track and then the
[202]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

river — the Grand Morin — and in a grass-
grown granite quarry halted for breakfast,
sheltering ourselves from the blistering sun in
the shade of the immense rocks.

The boys took the horses down to the river
to drink and bathe, and a few seconds later
came back for towels and soap.

What a happy idea! A quarter of a mile
higher up the bank I found a well secluded
spot, and plunged into the refreshing current.
It was the first time I had had my boots off
since leaving Villiers. Thanks to a small
pocket glass and a fresh white blouse, I made
myself quite presentable and as I approached
our camp, the appetizing odor of fresh fried
country sausage tickled my nostrils and made
me glad to be alive.

Hot coffee accompanied by buttered toast
had been prepared by the girls during my
absence, and we needed no coaxing to persuade
us to do the meal justice. Already accustomed
to this gypsy life, George's dry humor began to
show itself, and now and again the silence
would be broken by peals of laughter, caused
by some quaint joke.

We lingered lovingly over the repast, and I
[203]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

was trying to decide whether or not we would
push on at once or wait and rest until after-
noon when suddenly my question was answered
for me.

While we had been clearing up and loading
the carts a long train of freight cars had noise-
lessly glided down the rails opposite our
quarry, and had halted without pulling into
the station. There was nothing abnormal in
this, and from where we sat a trifle below the
level of the track, we could see but little of
what was going on on the opposite platform.
Standing upright in my charette, carefully
folding a blanket so as to take up the least
possible space, my eye was attracted by several
red specks scurrying up a steep incline. A mo-
ment afterwards my gaze drifted downward
and I realized that from the innocent looking
freight cars hundreds of armed soldiers were
disembarking and spreading themselves out,
en tirailleurs, preparing an attack in ambush.
I had seen this same pretty feat successfully
accomplished at the grand manosuvres, the
year before, but it was another thing entirely
when one grasped that these men were in dead
earnest.

[204]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Just then a buggy, containing a dishevelled
woman and collarless man, galloped over the
crossing and sped westward. The occupants,
whom I hailed, did not deign a reply, but beck-
oning with their arms, enjoined me to follow
them.

"It's time to break camp," I said, "if we in-
tend to reach the next town before it gets too
hot."

So off we started, preceded by a heavy de-
livery wagon, a Familistere from the north,
which crossed the rails just as we were pulling
onto the road. It was a big covered affair,
filled to overflowing with bedding and house-
hold utensils — and even the top was loaded
with huge boxes and baskets of provisions.
Behind it walked, or rather trotted, three stout
women and a man, the former half -crazed with
heat and anxiety, mopping their brows and
their tears as the cortege advanced.

An hour and a half of steady climbing quite
exhausted them, and when we reached the level,
the three graces collapsed by the roadside,
still weeping copiously. I observed this as I
approached, and presently saw their com-
panion mounted on the high hind wheel of their
[ 205 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

wagon, gaiing intently towards the east
through a pair of field glasses.

"What can you see?" I asked as the charette
passed by them.

"Come and have a look. It's worth while.
My wife and family are too frightened."

I halted, and climbing up by the spokes
reached the top, and steadying myself with
my left hand, took the proffered glass with
my right.

From one extremity to the other of the wide
plains, from which we were separated by the
valley of the Grand Morin, those same long
columns of dense black smoke rose lazily in the
brilliant sunlight. Into some determined spot
the enemy was pouring a perfect rain of shot
and shell, and the dust rising after each ex-
plosion formed a curtain that blotted out the
rest of the landscape. Below, the Senegalais
had disappeared in ambush, but now and again
the distant clattering of the mitrailleuse told us
they were at their deadly work. And to think
all this was happening on ground we had
traveled over only a few hours since! And I
had been fool enough to go back to Rebais
alone to recover my dog!
[206]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I shuddered as I got down. What was the
use of trying to hurry? We couldn't go any
faster than the horses, and if we overworked
them now we would have to rest longer later
on. So, urging our poor old nags, we trudged
along the sun-baked roads between the high
grown wheatfields of the Brie country.

Still another couple of hours and we had
reached Choisy-en-Brie, found a stable for our
animals, and we ourselves stretched out on our
blankets beneath the friendly shadow of the
big stone church.

I had finished luncheon and was just dozing
off when a motor horn roused me from my
lethargy. A second later I recognized Maitre
Baudoin and his wife, the latter holding their
four-year-old daughter on her knees, her
grandmother sitting alone in the back seat
which was piled high with important docu-
ments, and their maid strapped to the steps of
the car.

We set up a shout which stopped them.
"We stayed until a shell burst on the house
next door, then we thought it was time to go,"
explained Maitre Baudoin.

"What time did you leave Rebais?"
[207]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Forty minutes ago. You'd better be mov-
ing, too."

"Sorry, but I can't. The horses must rest."

"Well, don't wait too long. Adieu."

"Adieu," and they were off.

I returned to my blanket and again was just
closing my eyes when the unexpected sound of
Gregorian chant made me sit up. Nearer
and nearer it drew, louder and louder rose the
priests' voices, and then a much-befringed and
flower-laden hearse, preceded by the clergy
and followed by the mourners (the men in
evening dress and the women in their Sunday
clothes), rounded the corner, passed in front
of us, and halted before the main door of the
church.

I couldn't help smiling. The incongruity of
this pompous enterrement de premiere classe,
en musique, when the city was imminently
menaced by a German bombardment, bordered
on the pathetic and the ridiculous. However,
the family of the defunct did not think so, and
their deceased parent was chanted to eternity
with all the rites and ceremonies that his will
had provided for.

Personally I was delighted at the idea of
[208]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

going to sleep to the sound of the organ, which
pierced the thick granite walls and almost
drowned the rumble of the cannon, to which
we had now become so accustomed that we had
ceased to be alarmed.

''Des soldatsT cried someone.

In a second I was on my feet.

"Where?"

"Two — on bicycles, going into the hotel
opposite."

I reached there as soon as they did. Their
story was brief.

"We're the forerunners of a cavalry depot,
being transferred to Rozoy from Montmirail.
It's getting too hot down there! How far is
it to Rozoy?"

I pulled out my map.

"Seventeen kilometres."

"Oh, Lord!"

And the poor fellows wiped the great beads
of perspiration from their dusty necks and
faces.

"Bring up a bottle of wine. I'll stand for
the drinks," called a man from a corner of the
cafe.

"What regiment do you belong to?"
[209]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

^'UEscadron du train/'

My heart leapt with expectancy.

"Do you know a man named H.?"

"No."

My disappointment was even greater than
my joy.

"How many horses are you taking to
Rozoy?"

"Two hundred and some."

"At what time will they pass here?"

"They're due in half an hour, if they don't
get cornered by the Bodies on the way. We
had a close call ourselves." And swallowing
their glasses of white wine and water, they
were on their bicycles and gone, before we
could get any further details.

I had now had enough experience to know
that it was high time to take to the road if we
didn't wish to be captured. Yet it seemed un-
fair to go and leave some two-score innocent
people praying for the soul of their dear de-
parted to a long drawn-out musical accompani-
ment. So while the boys were harnessing I
entered the sanctuary and approaching the
chancel by a side aisle, beckoned an altar boy
and whispered in his ear words to the effect
[210]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

that the curate would better hurry his mass
and thereby give his flock time to escape the
invaders.

I said this calmly, and hoped he would follow
my example in delivering my message, but
imagine if you can the effect produced by this
frightened individual, who, lifting his hands in
the air, cried out in terror, ''Vite, viie. Mon-
sieur le Cure! Voila les PrussiensT

I didn't wait to see what happened, but went
out and joined my group, which was making
ready to start. How far advanced was mass
when I entered the church I did not observe,
but what I do know is that it finished abruptly
after my warning, and the poor hearse horse
never before galloped towards the cemetery of
Choisy at such a pace nor in such an undigni-
fied manner. As to the mourners, they fairly
fiew beside it, greatly diminished in number,
the others scattering like chaff before the
wind.

The half-hour's interval allowed by the
cyclists for the horses to arrive was far over-
lapped by the time we once again took the road,
but the sound of the cannonade had gradually
grown closer.

[211]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Wearied by this constant changing of camp,
I made up my mind to go far enough in this
next move to be able to really rest for a day
or so. Consulting my map, I discovered Jouy-
le-Chatel to be at what I judged a safe dis-
tance— ^nearly thirty kilometres and consider-
ably south of Paris. The afternoon was still
young, so we would have time to make the
town before dark. At any rate, I told George
to accompany me and explained that he and
I would ride ahead full speed, and arrange for
beds and a dinner by the time the others should
arrive. They were instructed not to let the
dark halt them, but to come on. Secretly I
hoped that this would be our last stretch and
that we would be able to remain at Jouy until
it was wise to start homeward.

It was an uneventful trip from Choisy to
Jouy. The roads were excellent, though very
undulating and the only incident that marked
our journey Vv^as an intoxicated individual who
jumped across our path and, putting his hand
on my handle bar, demanded tearfully what I
had done with his wife and children.

I declared myself innocent in the matter,
which angered him considerably.
[212]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Now I know you're a spy ! Get down-

George did not give him time to finish the
phrase, but with a well-measured blow, sent him
sprawling in the brambled ditch and we beat
a hasty rereat without looking back.

It was night by the time we reached Jouy,
and at the entrance of the city I enquired for
the best hotel.

''Le Grand Turc — but the proprietress is
closing up, making ready to leave."

"What! Here? You don't mean to say
the scare has reached this place, too?"

"Well, we've had so many refugees these
days that the women got frightened and want
to go."

George and I parted company, he to see
what he could find since the best hotel was
denied us, and I, undaunted, started off to try
to persuade the proprietress to let us in.

After much rattling at the door handles and
pounding on the shutters, an acrid female voice
enjoined me to be gone.

"I'm closing up and leaving."

"Leaving? What for?"

"To escape the Germans!"

"How foolish! They'll never reach here.
[ 213 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I've just come from the Marne and expected
to find board and lodgings for my staff until
the war is over."

That encouraged her and cracking the door,
she put her head out.

"I belong to the Red Cross. Here's my
badge and my carte d'identite. Don't you
think you could find room for me?"

"Well, we're packing up, but we'll have to
wait for our horses, which are at a farm seven
miles from here. The farmer said he'd come
if there was any danger."

"Well, you see there isn't or he'd be here by
now."

My hostess seemed convinced and opening
the door a little wider, let me pass.

"How many of you are there?"

"Fourteen."

"Good heavens! Fourteen rooms? Never!"

"I don't ask that, my good woman. If you
can find a bed for me and happen to have a
hay loft or covered shed, the others will be glad
enough to sleep there. As to the meals, we
have our own provisions and will cook out-
side. It's a little late to-night, however, so
if you could manage to give them a cup of hot
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MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

soup and an omelet when they arrive, I'd make
it worth your while."

She consented to the compromise, and sent
one of her daughters to prepare my room. I
then dispatched George, whose bicycle bell I
heard ringing in the street, to the city gate to
await and conduct the remainder of our party.
In the hour that elapsed before their arrival
I gained in the hostess's good graces by lancing
a festered finger and bandaging her small
daughter's skinned knee.

When the others arrived, George, who had
not been idle during his wait, told me that Jouy
was almost empty of inhabitants, and that
most of the people from Mery-sur-Marne, a
village near Villiers, were lodging for the night
on bales of hay in the school house and town
hall.

Our meal over, none of us needed persuading
to retire and the idea of a bed lured me early
to my room.

Naturally a light sleeper, I was constantly
awakened by the coming and going and the
conversation of our proprietress, who kept on
packing right through the night. Another
time I was roused by a bell ringing up and
[215]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

down the street, which passed beneath my
window, and a deep mascuHne voice that en-
joined all the people from Mery to hurry to the
town hall. The wagons were leaving in a
quarter of an hour.

"Poor fools," thought I, and rolled over in
my bed.

As it grew light, I could see the interminable
stream of refugees passing up the road, and
when I had dressed and hastened to the court-
yard I found the others had already kindled
a fire and tea was awaiting me.

"At what time should we start, Madame?"

"Start where?"

"I haven't the slightest intention of going
any farther. Haven't you all had enough of
this kind of traveling?"

The reply was affirmative and unanimous!

"The noise of the cannon is hardly audible
this morning, which is a very encouraging sign,
I'm sure, so we'll try to make ourselves com-
fortable until it's safe to go home."

And leaving Julie in charge, I set off by my-
self, glad of a moment's solitude.

In my wanderings I found the church door
[216]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

open, and entering, rejoiced in the peace that
reigned within. It calmed my anxiety and as
I withdrew my thoughts were clearer, and the
burden of my responsibility seemed lightened.

On my way to the hotel I was accosted by
a woman who, with a baby in her arms, was
leading a cow behind her.

"Don't you want some milk?"

"I hardly think so."

"Please take it. You see, I've only saved
my baby and my cow, and I have to milk the
latter twice a day. I can't carry all she gives,
so I keep what's necessary and throw the rest
away. It seems like such a waste."

I agreed with her, and directed her towards
the hotel court. She would take no remu-
neration and thanking me, hastened on her
way.

As I watched her go someone touched me on
the arm and asked me if I would go to the town
hall; there were two refugees who needed as-
sistance. There I found a very old couple —
brother and sister, the eldest aged ninety-two,
the other two years younger. They were from
Mery, had lodged in a private house in Jouy,
and were so decrepit that they had not arisen
[ 217 ]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

in time to catch the wagons which bore away
their fellow townsmen the night before. Thi»
had so upset the old man that he had broken
down and lay moaning on the straw, while the
mild little woman explained that the being left
behind was not what troubled her, but it was
her purse and belongings that had been
carried off in the carts.

I comforted them as best I could, promising
to send them hot milk and biscuits, and wonder-
ing what else I could do for them. Any way
they should not starve, as long as we remained
in Jouy.

Luncheon was well under way when I re-
turned to the hotel. In a pot, standing on an
iron tripod in the middle of the paved court,
a rabbit was gently stewing. In another, a
fricassee of chicken smelled temptingly good.
The women and girls were peeling potatoes
and onions, which were to cook in the sauce and
a peal of laughter went up from the merry
group when a few moments later George and
Emile appeared, covered with flour and dough
from head to foot, and each bearing a bottle
of white wine under his arm.

"What on earth have you boys been up to?"
[ 218 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Behold in us the city bakers!" said George
with a wave of the hand and he and his com-
panion struck an attitude which again drew
forth much hilarity from the onlookers.

"It's no joke — there wasn't a baker left in
the place, so we found an old fellow who said
he'd show us how, and the dough is now setting.
By three o'clock we'll have fresh bread, you see
if we don't!"

From the window the proprietress and her
daughters watched our impromptu kitchen
with interest. We formed such an amusing
group that, handing my kodak to Leon, I told
him to catch us as I bent over to taste the sauce.

Snap went the shutter !

At that same instant a shriek rose from the
interior of the hotel. Looking up I saw that
the proprietress and her two daughters had
disappeared.

"Au secours! Au secoursT

The boys and I made a rush for the house.
As we entered the grande salle, we saw a man
bearing a human form in his arms staggering
through the door. Through the blood and dust
that smeared the unfortunate boy's clothing, I
recognized the uniform of a chasseur. Not
[219]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

even an emergency bandage stopped the stream
that was flowing from his cheek.

"Quick — a mattress!" I shouted.

The proprietress stood as though nailed to
the doorway leading to the kitchen.

"Is he wounded?"

"No matter — a mattress !"

"But he might soil it—"

"Then I'll pay for it — but for the love of
heaven, be quick!"

Just then the boy's head lurched forward and
the blood poured from his mouth. Leon
jumped to help the old man who was holding
him, and I had just time to catch the proprie-
tress as she swooned on the floor.

"Put the boy on the billiard table and stuff
this blanket under his head," I said, grabbing
the article mentioned from the top of a bundle
near by. "Come in here!" I called to the two
daughters who were blubbering in the next
room, terrified at what they had seen. "Come
in here — lay her flat, loosen her clothes, and
dash some cold water over her. She's not dead
— and I've no time to bother with her."

While others laid the wounded man out on
the table, I rushed for my emergency case
[220]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

which I had fortunately thought to bring
along.

With a sharp pair of scissors, I cut away the
bloody garments and with a little warm water
washed my patient so I could see what was the
matter. He was but half conscious, and his
eyes rolled wildly and his hand grasped mine
and wrung it in agony.

I discovered a tiny cheek wound and was
congratulating myself that perhaps the bullet
had lodged in the flesh, when on turning his
head gently to one side, I was almost nau-
seated by the terrible wound that greeted my
eyes.

Either a Mauser pistol or an explosive bullet
fired at but short distance had entered the
cheek and gouged its way through the lad's
head, carrying away part of the ear and well —
let us not go any further.

"Is there a doctor in the place still?" I
called to the cook who stood looking in at the
door. "Run and see if you can get him — for
I'm incompetent here. Quick! It's life or
death!"

And while she was gone I stuif ed cotton and
iodine into the tremendous cavity, hoping to
[221]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

stop the hemorrhage. As I bandaged, I ques-
tioned the man who had brought him.

*'Where did you pick him up?"

"AmiUis — a mile and a half from here. The
Uhlans fired into me, too, when they saw me
help him. Look at the sole of my shoe!
They're following close on behind."

I stepped to the window. "George and
Leon! Quick! Drop everything. Hitch and
get out of here like lightning! I'll follow in
this man's cart. Hitch and I'll tell you where
to go."

Fricasseed chicken and rabbit stew were for-
gotten and I could hear my people running
wildly about the court, obeying orders.

The doctor appeared. I explained. "Shall
I unbandage?"

"Useless."

"Then don't say so out loud, as he's not yet
unconscious."

The poor fellow gripped my hand as proof.
The physician blushed scarlet.

"I'll give him an injection of ether and then
you take him in your cart to the nearest hos-
pital— it's Provins — twenty miles from here."

He jabbed in the needle, and then handing
[ 222 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

it with a phial to me : "Here — take this. I'm
clearing out. Got a wife and baby to save.
Keep his heart going — there's a ghost of a
chance. Adieu!"

I stood petrified.

"Take him away, I'm closing up ! Take him
away — " screamed the hostess, who had recov-
ered from her swoon.

I looked at the old man who had brought
the boy.

"Where are you going with your cart?"

"To Coulommiers — to save my sister-in-law
and her children."

"Good God, man! Can't you see that if
this boy was wounded at Amillis your road
to Coulommiers is cut off!"

"It may not be."

"There's no time to argue. My wagons are
full to overflowing. Are you going to let this
boy stay and be finished by the Germans, or
are you going to let me put him in your cart
and drive to a hospital?"

"But Provins must be occupied by this time.
It's east of here."

"I never had any intention of going there.
I'm heading for Melun."
[223]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

"Melun?"

"Yes."

*'Good heavens! That's seventy kilometres!
My poor sister-in-law! my horse!" wailed the
old fellow.

"Now then — one, two, three — " said I,
gently patting my Browning which I had
drawn from my outside pocket. "Will you
do it gracefully? That's right. Now stop your
crying. I'll release you as soon as I can find
someone else to take me on. The important
thing is to get out of here and quick ! It may
be too late now."

The boys had fetched a mattress, had
found pillows and a sheet, somewhere, and
gently we laid the dying man on the old
farm cart.

"You boys take your bikes and go ahead.
Tell the refugees you meet to pull to the right
and not encumber the whole road. We're rush-
ing a wounded man to the hospital. When I
think you've got the way clear I'll drive on
full speed. Tell our carts to head for Melun
and keep on going till they get there. I can't
bother with them. We'll meet at the first
bridge over the Seine."

[ 224 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUE

They departed, and climbing in beside my
patient, who writhed in agony, now lurching
from one side, now rolling to the other, I tried
to make him as comfortable as possible. All
the other carts had departed ere we got away,
and my tearful driver kept on grumbling and
lamenting.

Two hundred yards from the hotel, where
the road makes a sharp turn, we halted
abruptly, for we had come upon a group com-
posed of my boy George and three French
chasseurs. Two were on horseback, their naked
swords glittering in the sunlight; the third on
a bicycle — and all three, as well as George,
were shrieking excitedly at a phlegmatic
Tommy Atkins who, seated on a milestone,
was calmly smoking his pipe. Behind him, his
horse was peacefully nibbling grass. At the
sight of my armlet and the agitated white sheet
in the wagon, the chasseurs approached in
haste.

"What have you got there? Our comrade,
Ballandreau?"

"Yes." (I had seen the boy's name in his
military book.)

"Is he dead?"

[225]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"No."

"Badly wounded?"

"Yes."

^'Parlez-vous anglais?'' they fairly bawled,
all three at once.

"Yes."

"Then, for God's sake, tell that blockhead
sitting on the stone and whose horse has gone
lame, to seize the bicycle of that peasant
standing there, and follow us."

I translated politely.

"Why?" queried the Englishman, drawing
on his pipe.

"Why?" I demanded of the chasseurs.

"Why? Do you see that?" said one on a
bicycle, wheeling around and pointing down
the road behind us. "Do you see that? That's
the Uhlans. The ones that got Ballandreau a
half -hour ago, the ones that got my horse and
the ones that will get us all if we stop here
much longer."

"The Uhlans!" I cried to Tommy, showing
him the advancing forms of a half-dozen
cavalrymen, whose black leather helmets shone
in the sun a mile up the road.

"There are seven of them — on patrol — seven
[226]

DOORS AND WINDOWS NO LONGER EXISTED [Page 261]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

hundred following ! Come, old fellow, it's now
or never!"

"And I — where shall I go?" I said, jumping
into the cart, George following.

"To the devil if you like, but quick!"

The warning came none too soon. We had
been seen, and sharp, whizzing noises in the
grass, and over our heads told us that our
German pursuers had no intention of letting us
get away.

"Down on your knees, man!" I yelled, pull-
ing the old fellow with me as we ducked to the
level of the dashboard. And unfastening a
breastpin, I jabbed it mercilessly into the
flanks of our nag, who bounded forward, nearly
throwing us out.

Whizz! Whizz! Whizz!

It was as if a cloud of locusts were humming
about us.

Then when I lifted my eyes, on top of the
steep incline we were ascending, I could see
several uniformed horsemen and back of them
a huge column of smoke.

"Heavens!" I gasped, "we're caught this
time — but it's too late now to turn about.
We're prisoners for sure!"
[227]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

Two cavalrymen then appeared and calmly
started down the road in our direction. A
second later I recognized the British uniform
and breathed again.

"Go back!" I yelled. "Go back! The Ger-
mans are on our heels!"

Astonished at hearing their native tongue,
the men approached.

"Thank heaven, here's someone to direct
us," they said as they came alongside and
saluted.

I replied with a nod.

"We're lost," they said, "cut off from our
brigade."

"That's nothing. How many of you are
there? Enough to fight? The Germans are
coming on hard and fast."

"We're only two and our horses are done
for. We were driven out of Coulommiers
this morning."

My driver threw up his hands and sobbed.

"Our friend John's horse went lame and we
left him at the bottom of the hill while we came
up to reconnoitre. We can't leave him down
there all alone."

"He's gone — gone — I swear it. Followed
[228]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the French chasseurs on my bicycle, leading
his mount!"

"Thank God!"

"Now then, how far the Germans will come
is a question. They'll probably go in and
occupy the town, and there's just one thing for
us to do — bolt."

Whizz! Whizz! Whizz — the lead fairly
splashed around us !

Leon and Emile rode back to say that the
road ahead was clear.

''JLes Boches" I said, pointing down the
hill.

"Come on, you cowards!" yelled my boys
defiantly, George brandishing the rifle of my
wounded man.

"Oh, Madame, ask the Englishmen for their
revolvers. They've got their rifles — that's five
of us armed, and Monsieur's revolver makes
six! It's almost man to man. Ah, please,
Madame!" they implored.

In the excitement of the moment I nearly
lost my head and consented. I was worked to
such a point that any solution would have
seemed a relief. The Britishers saw me put
my hand in my pocket.

[229]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"JSTo! No!" they pleaded. "You can't. If
we're caught you won't be killed — but mur-
dered, tortured! We're the only ones who
have a right to fire — "

"But they've been peppering my cart regard-
less of my sexl"

"That's perhaps their way of waging war,
but not ours. Now then, off you go —
quickly."

We disappeared behind a clump of trees and
tore down the clear road as fast as our horses
would carry us. George sneaked back on his
wheel to see if our aggressors were following,
and came back radiant to announce that after
coming halfway up the hill, they had turned
about and were cantering to take possession
of Jouy — as I had predicted.

"Where's our nearest barracks?" enquired
one of the Scotsmen. (I now saw that I had
to do with the Scots Grays. ) We slowed down
a little.

"How on earth do you expect me to know?
Up imtil I met you I hardly realized there
were any British troops on the continent!"

"Where are you bound for?"

"Melun. There's a big French garrison
[ 230]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

there in time of peace. You'll always be sure
of getting orders there — unless we meet some-
one on the road."

They thought that was the best idea, and
fell back, cantering behind my caravan with
which I had now caught up.

On we trotted — up hill and down dale for
several hours, my poor wounded boy still
writhing on his bed of agony.

Towards four o'clock we had reached a long
smooth stretch where we could see right and
left for several miles over the plains. Pres-
ently, on a crossroad that ran perpendicular
to ours, I spied a motor wagon. It was soon
followed by another and then another, and
pressing forward we reached the crossing in
time to see Harrods' Stores, Whitley's, Swan
& Edgar, and an interminable number of
English Army supply motors coming straight
towards us.

Knowing that it would be impossible to pass
before the whole long line had gone by, I
crossed over and now saw that the Scots Grays
would soon find friends. I called Leon and
pulling out a card, told him to pedal back and
dig out a bottle of champagne I had hidden in
[231]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

our hay cart, and to present it to our soldier
friends as a bracer and a souvenir. And then
we pushed ahead.

Two minutes later, to my utter surprise, a
heavy motor horn tooted on the road behind
me and looking back, I saw a private car
emerge from behind one of the English motors,
and whirl down in our direction. It was a
four-seater affair with but two occupants, a
chauffeur and a woman wearing a streaming
white veil.

"Quick!" I shrieked, grabbing the reins and
pulling our cart full into the middle of the
road. "They've got to take me and the boy to
Melun!"

Seeing his deliverance so near, my old friend
obeyed at once.

The motor, stupified by our actions, slowed
down.

"Get out of the way!" yelled the chauffeur.
"Are you crazy! Out or I'll run you down!"

"Never! Look here. I don't care where
you're bound for, but you've got to make room
for me and a dying man in your machine. It's
Melun — or nothing!"

"Wounded! Heaven, the Germans ! We're
[ 232 ]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

caught! Go on, quick, quick, I say!" shrieked
the woman.

The chauffeur made a movement as though
to skid past us.

"No, you don't," I said, once again produc-
ing my trusty Browning.

The woman hid her face in her hands.

"Now then, either you can make room for
us or I'll blow off your tires and you'll have
to get down and walk like all the rest of us!"

My grey-headed driver was jubilant.

"That's right, Madame, you've hit it!" he
encouraged.

There just wasn't any choice. The chauffeur
got down and began piling the gasoline cans
behind on the back seat to one side. Then,
each of us grabbing a corner of the mattress,
we hoisted the sufferer onto the machine, cov-
ering him with a sheet. Try as we would,
though, we could not get him to bend his knees,
and in consequence all during the trip the poor
chauffeur received constant kicks from the
agonized soul we were rushing towards surgical
aid.

"Now then," I said, turning to my old driver.
"Thank you for your cart, and bon voyage to
[233]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUK

Coulommiers. George, tell my people to meet
me in Melun."

And hatless, coatless, with but one golden
louis in my pocket (I had confided my bag to
Julie when the wounded man had arrived at
Jouy), I started on our record-breaking trip
to Melun.

[234]

VII

It was an exciting trip, that race for life and
death — for every moment I knew my wounded
boy was growing weaker, and every convulsive
kick meant the disappearance of so much life
blood. During the nmnerous adventures which
befell us between the time we left Jouy-le-
Chatel and our encountering the motor, my
hypodermic needle had received such violent
treatment that it refused service. So when we
turned into Mormont at top speed, I was
obliged to ask my driver to slow down and
inquire for a doctor. We were directed by a
couple of gaping women on the borders of the
little city, who didn't quite understand our
mission. However, they must have been soon
enlightened, for as we crossed the public
square the British Red Cross ambulances were
pouring in and lining up in battle array.
Behind them came a steady stream of ammuni-
tion wagons, both horse and motor trucks, and
from Mormont to Melun the line was un-
broken.

[235]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

The doctor was absent, but his wife wiUingly
filled his place and with new hope dawning we
backed out of the yard and sped southward.

What was the landscape we passed through
I really couldn't say. I had a dreamy sensa-
tion of having run down a refugee's dog, and
hearing its owner wishing us in warmer climes
— as well as the feeling that my blood-stained
apron and the agitated white sheet beside me
created much curiosity among the drivers and
occupants of the A. S. C. motors that took up
all one side of the road.

One by one the mile posts whizzed past and
finally we came into Melun.

"Where's the nearest hospital?" I enquired
of a group of soldiers loitering outside a
barracks.

"Give it vip ! All evacuated !"

Our driver needed no more — and so we
pushed on into the town, while I pantomimed
to those behind that I had a wounded man in
my arms.

In front of the city hall stood a noisy
gathering, and in reply to our questions, a mid-
dle-aged man jumped on to the step.

"Go ahead — I'll guide you. All the seven
[236]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

hospitals in Melun were transferred to Orleans
this morning. The mixed hospital is all that is
left."

After what seemed an interminable time we
finally pulled up a long hill and after much
parleying I succeeded in turning over my
patient to the medical authorities.

Through the half open door of the little
stuffy office where I was conducted I could see
a white-aproned doctor and a nurse properly
bandaging my boy. When my compagnons de
route had departed, I walked out into the ward
and straight up to the bedside.

"Is there any hope?"

"Not one chance in a million! Would to
heaven we had the right to spare them such
suffering! Morphine is no longer helpful in
his case!"

It was a shock to hear this. The lad, who a
couple of hours before was unknown to me,
suddenly became very dear. I turned about to
hide my emotion, but was startled out of it by
the double line of white beds on which were
writhing men and boys in the most awful
agony, yet not a sound broke from their lips.
In the middle of the room a second doctor, a
[237]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

slight man with a pointed beard, stood wash-
ing his hands and then began drawing on a pair
of long rubber gloves. He crossed over to a
basin and, after sterilizing his instruments,
looked around for an aid.

"Can I do anything for you, doctor?"

Not in the least surprised by my audacity,
he asked, "Are you a nurse?"

"No."

"Have you ever seen an operation."

"Yes."

I lied.

"Have you a good temperament?"

"Yes."

"Then come over here and hold this basin."

I obeyed, and then Doctor Jean Mas-
brennier began a series of operations which will
remain graven in my memory forever.

As he worked he talked — and informed me
that the Red Cross Society had been hastily
evacuated in the morning, doctors and all.
Only those who were unable to be moved had
been left behind, and only two civilian doctors
were left to attend them. But one nurse
remained to do all the bandaging. That was
why I had been rung into service. It took but
[238]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

little time to find a mutual acquaintance in the
person of Elizabeth Gauthier, and the doctor
had long been familiar with H.'s work.

It would be useless to describe the horrors
that I witnessed, or try to do justice to the
heroic way those first glorious wounded of this
lengthy war accepted their fate. I cannot,
however, resist mentioning the endurance of
a big black Senegalais, who won the admira-
tion of both doctors and neighbors by refusing
morphine or cocaine, and insisting on having
the seven bullets that were lodged in his neck
and throat withdrawn thus — never uttering a
murmur !

When it was over, and we finally laid him
back on his pillow, the tears were rolling down
his cheeks and he squeezed my hand in his big
black paw and then gently drew it to his lips.

How many wounded were there? I did not
count. All I remember was that I promised
to come the next day and write letters to wives,
mothers and sweethearts of at least a dozen
men and boys.

It was late when the last basin was emptied
and Dr. Masbrennier untied his apron.

As we were washing up, I asked if he would
[239]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

be good enough to guide me out of the hospital
and tell me where there was a respectable res-
taurant to which a woman might go alone.

"I have neither hat, coat, nor gloves.
They're coming in the carts."

"That's so; perhaps you haven't had any-
thing since lunch and I've been making you
work on an empty stomach!"

"Worse than that!" I laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing since breakfast at Jouy-le-
Chatel."

"Good God, woman!" And taking me by
the arm, he hurried me down the hall.

As we passed out of the entrance door, a
superior officer stopped Dr. Masbrennier and
though I advanced out of earshot the words,
"evacuation" and "to-night" were distinctly
audible. A second later my companion caught
up with me.

"So sorry I can't accompany you, but the
whole hospital goes to Orleans immediately.
Must make room for the new-comers! I'll
'phone home. The gouvernante will make you
comfortable." And he continued to give me
explicit directions how to reach his house.
[240]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

"You'd better come to Orleans where we can
look after you."

"Sorry, but I've gone far enough south."

''Alors au revoir et grand merci"

''Au revoir/'

And a second later I found myself outside
in the chilly darkness.

For the first time in my life I had the sensa-
tion of being utterly alone. No one on earth
knew where I was and if I had not had faith in
Dr. Masbrennier's promise of a warm dinner, I
should gladly have indulged in a little fit of de-
spair. And so I wandered on down the dingy,
black streets of Melun, where not a lamp post
nor shop window was lighted, not a human
being seemed astii)^ Where was my little
troupe ? How and when would we all meet ?

Thus ruminating I came to a bridge. A
sentry flashed a pocket lamp in my face.

''On ne passe pas!''

I showed my armlet and he stepped aside.

Halfway across I distinguished two human
forms leaning over the railing, and following
their example I perceived a half-dozen
hommes du genie hard at work mining the
foundation of the centre arch. So these
[241]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

bridges were to be blown up, too! What was
I to do? Stay on the other side and wait for
my caravan or cross over and risk my chances
alone ? A reflector from below swung upward,
illuminating the bridge.

"George!" I gasped.

One of the two figures straightened
abruptly ! In a second the boys had recognized
me. "What are you doing here? Where are
the others?"

I poured out a dozen eager questions, not
giving them time to reply. When almost
breathless I stopped and they explained that
the caravan had been halted on the outskirts
of Melun. No refugees were allowed in after
nightfall. Fortunately the boys bethought
themselves of my wounded man's clothes and
arms, and thanks to these they were allowed
to pass and deliver them to the gendarmerie.
Remembering that I had friends at Barbizon
they had sent the others there by a round-about
route, and had come on to find me.

"But how did you get here?"

"Cesar brought us."

"Where is he? And Betsy?"

"Oh, we found a dentist who had an empty
[242]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

stable. He took them in. Betsy refused to
leave the cart. She's never had such a picnic
in her life: been traveling all day in a ten-
pound box of lump sugar!"

All worry had vanished, now that I found
my line of conduct traced for me. The chief
thing at present was to get something to eat.
So we pushed ahead up the hill in the ever-
deepening obscurity. We walked on in silence
for what seemed an interminable distance.
Once I fancied I had mistaken directions and
was about to despair when the tramp of feet
coming toward us revived hope. A second
later a brawny arm turned a lantern into my
face and a huge police dog growled close to my
heels.

"Are you the person who is going to Dr.
Masbrennier's ?"

"Yes."

''Tres bien. Are these boys with you?"

"Yes."

"Then follow me. We're closing up the
doctor's house, but I'll look after you."

Without further ado we trudged on behind
our guide, who after another hundred yards,
turned into a gateway and led us up the stone
[ 243 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

steps of a sumptuous dwelling. Opening the
door, he lit the electric light and stepped into
the vestiblue.

"Come in," he said. "I'll be back in a mo-
ment." And he disappeared.

There we stood, Leon, George and myself,
waiting for something to happen, for someone
to appear. Five — ten — fifteen minutes must
have elapsed — still not a sound anywhere. I
was just beginning to wonder if we had not
been the dupes of some practical joke, when
from a room opening into the vestibule a light
shone forth. The curtains parted and our
friend of the highroad appeared.

" 'Tisn't much — but such as it is you're wel-
come. Sit down and make yourselves com-
fortable." And again he disappeared.

On a snowy white table cloth three covers
were laid and a tempting supper composed of
bread and butter, cheese, a bottle of white wine,
and a huge basket of most luscious hothouse
grapes and pears — gladdened our hungry
gaze. We did not need a second invitation!
We fell to with a vengeance and at the end
of a quarter-hour hardly a crumb remained.

"When you've finished, come upstairs;
[244]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Madame will take the first door to the right.
You boys come up a flight higher," called a
voice from above.

We obeyed, and before retiring I waited a
good half-hour hoping our friend would
reappear. But no one came — so bolting my
door, I offered up a prayer of thanks and was
soon fast asleep.

Sunday morning, September sixth, the sun
was high in the heavens when I peeped from
beneath my lace-bordered sheets and cocked
my ear at the familiar sound of the cannon.
It was a long continuous roar, and now that I
had become accustomed to distancing I esti-
mated that the battle was on at Mormont. And
I was not mistaken. A little later official news
confirmed my guess.

Finding no bell in my room, I opened the
door — to see a pitcher of hot water sitting
before it, and on a chair beside it, a new comb,
a clean linen duster, and a pocket handkerchief.
A brief note told me that I would find break-
fast in the dining-room, and requested that I
leave word on the table saying at what time
I would be in for luncheon. Decidedly the
mystery deepened — for not a sound could be
[ 245 ]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

heard save in the garden where I spied George
and Leon, who informed me that the house
was empty, and "a gorgeous house, Madame!"
they ejaculated in admiration.

Though partially abandoned, Melun was full
of life, thanks to the presence of numerous
British troops and that same long line of A. S.
C.'s now quadrupled on the highroad — two
lines going, two lines coming.

As I picked my way between them, and
crossed the street, my attention was arrested
by a French peasant who was conversing by
means of the sign language with the hand-
some driver of one of those vans, while several
children were clamoring to be allowed to sit on
the seat a moment, "just to see how it seemed."

"Can I be of any assistance?"

"Rather! Seems good to hear English,
thank you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Might I ask where you come from?"

"The States."

"Do you know Cleveland?"

"Yes."

"Well, I've got a mother and three brothers
buried in that cemetery. Colonials, you know.
[ 246 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I'm English — from Bath — oldest son. Could-
n't see things their way. Done better perhaps
if I'd joined the others out there."

I smiled at this unexpected and impromptu
confession. The boy saw it and reddened.

"Is there anything particular you want me
to say to this man for you?" said I quickly, to
cover his embarrassment.

"No, thank you. But there's one thing you
might be able to tell me."

"What?"

"Do you think we'll be 'home' in time to eat
Christmas dinner?"

"Rather!"

"Thank you so much! Good-bye."

"Good-bye and good luck to you."

And after snapping his photograph I
started on down the street in haste, for I could
see George and Leon, who had gone on ahead,
now running towards me.

"Vite, Madame. They need you!"

"Who?"

"The English. They can't make people
understand."

I pressed forward, and came upon a crowd
of gapers standing outside a shop. Within
[247]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

two English officers were arguing in their
native tongue with an irate butcher, who
waved one arm wildly in the air, and brandished
a huge knife in the other, shouting frantically
all the while,

^'La voila — la voila!" said George and Leon,
almost dragging me forward, proud to exhibit
my accomplishments. ''La voila! Vous etes
sauves/'

My greatest desire was to turn about and
run, but the crowd parted to let me through.

"Would you mind, Madame?" pleaded the
lieutenant. "We need your assistance to make
this man understand that we're drafting meat
for the army. We'll pay cash, but he might
just as well give it gracefully, for we have the
right to force his ice box if he refuses."

I explained gently, and when things were
calm was about to slip away. The officer
touched me on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Madame, but I'm afraid we'll
have to draft you, too. Our time is limited and
if a scene like this happens at every shop we'll
be punished for tardiness! Here's my order
to draft an interpreter," and he put his hand
into his pocket.

[248]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I was somewhat abashed.

"Might I ask when you will release me?"

"Just as soon as we've the supply we need."

"Will you give me ten minutes to arrange
my affairs here?"

"Certainly. But remember you're on
parole !"

Outside I explained the situation to George
and Leon, and scribbling a note to friends in
Barbizon, told the boys to drive over and re-
assure the others — make them comfortable at
the Clef d'OVj, and tell them to expect me
that evening.

"Whatever happens, wait there until I come.
There's no danger of the Germans reaching
Barbizon, I fancy!"

And that is how from nine in the morning
until late in the afternoon I sat perched on
the front of a British Army Supply truck,
much to the amusement of the other Tommy
Atkins we encountered in Melun and the
neighboring villages.

My officer friends very courteously drove me

to the hospital where I learned that my poor

wounded chasseur Ballandreau had passed

away in the night, and towards five o'clock,

[249]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

when their task was completed, they offered
me tea and proposed to drive me to Barbizon.
As we jolted down the hill towards the railway
crossing our attention was attracted by a huge
gathering of citizens and soldiers, and above
the roar of our motor, we could hear the rolling
of a drum. Silence reigned instantly and an
officer in uniform in the middle of the group
read out a short message from a paper he held
in his hand. What he said we could not hear,
but the mad shout of joy that went up when
he had finished made us eager to learn the news.
Like lightning "Paris saved — the Germans
retreating" ran from mouth to mouth, and the
delirious excitement that seized that crowd was
absolutely indescribable. Young and old,
English and French, peasant and bourgeois,
fell on each other's necks and exchanged a
joyous embrace. The awful tension of the
last month was broken and the word victory
was uttered by thousands of throats, suddenly
grown husky with emotion.

My arrival and the news I bore created a
sensation among my servants and the remain-
ing inhabitants of Millet's famous village.
Barbizon was dead — literally deserted, for not
[ 250 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

a single member of that delightful summer
colony remained, several hotels were closed,
and the others as empty as in the heart of
winter. The proprietress of the Clef d'Or
made me a very tempting offer for a sejour^
but I judged, and rightly, that since the
German retreat had begun, we would best fol-
low on close behind the victorious army, for if
we waited until order was restored, patrols
would be organized and we who had no papers
to identify us would not be allowed to pass.

Before retiring I announced my intention of
starting homeward, and the joy that illu-
minated those anxious faces somewhat calmed
my own misgivings, for now that our adven-
ture was safely over, I couldn't help worrying
about the absent.

When I touched my bed, I bethought me
of my lodging the night before, and realized
that I knew neither the name nor address of
the generous person in whose sumptuous
domicile I had been so cordially received and
graciously cared for. How and whom was I
to thank?

Leon, Emile and a sturdy butcher boy from
Charly who had joined the others on the road,
[251]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

had now determined to enlist — so I could but
encourage their patriotic sentiments, and went
with them to the recruiting office to furnish
proof of their identity.

Evidently many other youths under military
age had been inspired with the same idea, for
there was a long line outside the door, and as
we stood and waited, we examined with interest
the mounts of the English cavalry regiment
lined up in the street awaiting their riders.
George and Leon were eagerly fingering a
long coil of rope thrown on the pommel of one
saddle, when a deep voice from behind them
ejaculated,

"Guess you ain't ever seen the likes of that
before. That's a lasso."

I explained, and then looking round, beheld
a long, lanky individual, his hands on his hips,
literally taking us all in.

"Do you think you can tell 'em what that is,
sister?"

"I fancy so."

"Then you must be from home!"

"If you mean the States — yes."

"To h— with the States! The State-
Texas!"

[252]

- V

I- 1 ^

.h,',y.iU-'j!r\t

i fl

Ss

;x^'

A BUGLE SOUNDED AND I COULD HEAR THE TRAMP
OF soldiers' feet [Page 265]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I didn't find it necessary to translate that.

"Say, you haven't by any chance got a razor
about you?" he inquired. I rephed that I
was not in the habit of carrying such articles
on my person.

"No offense meant — but since you speak this
d — language, perhaps you could persuade one
of them kids to go and buy me one."

I said I thought I might, and my com-
patriot producing an American double eagle,
enjoined Leon to be quick and he'd make it
worth his while.

"You see," he explained, "a razor is all I
need to complete my outfit. Got a Winchester,
two revolvers, a Bowie knife, a lance and a
lasso. Razor's flat and easy to carry. Might
be useful, too. Nothing like being properly
armed. If I've got to sell my hide you bet I'll
sell it dear!"

Leon returned and I was about to ask my
friend to give us a little exhibition of his skill
with the rope, when the call to arms obliged
him to leave. So enjoining me to give his re-
gards to Broadway, he departed much pleased
with the world in general and himself in
particular.

[253]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

From various sources, though none of them
official, I learned that the road as far as
Coulommiers was clear. That was all we
wanted to know, so after seeing the boys off
for Orleans, a very much diminished caravan
started on its homeward journey. The horses,
after two days' rest, were quite giddy, and the
carts being light, they carried us on the new
road north as far as Pezarches with but few
halts. The country we passed through, though
abandoned by its inhabitants, showed no traces
of invasion. The Germans had not been able
to push so far west. I counted on making
Coulommiers to sleep, but night closed in
early and with it came a chilly drizzle, which
sent us in search of lodgings. Not a soul
was to be seen anywhere, and as all the
houses were shut, I deemed it unwise to force
a door. So we pushed ahead into the border
of the forest, hoping that the rain would soon
cease.

Presently someone discovered an abandoned
hermitage, through whose low doorway we
crept, and spreading out our blankets on the
floor, prepared to make a night of it — glad of
shelter from the dampness.
[254]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Hark!" hissed George, just as we were
dropping off to sleep.

We all sat up.

"There! That's the third bullet that's
landed on this roof!"

Ra-ta-pan — Ratapan! There was no mis-
taking the sound — even through the wind and
rain that raged outside.

George crawled on his knees toward the
opening, and a second later jumped back,
clapping his hand to his head with a low shriek.

"He's shot!" cried Julie.

I leaped forward, grabbed the lantern, and
holding it to the spot, opened the boy's clenched
fingers. As they parted, a heavy horse chest-
nut burr fell to the floor with a loud thump !

We were too nervous to appreciate the
humour of the situation, and had some little
difficulty composing ourselves to rest.

As we approached Coulommiers the next
morning the horrors of war became more and
more evident. On both sides of the roadway
the fields were strewn with hay and straw.
Every ten paces the earth was burned or
charred, and in some places the smoke still rose
from dying camp fires. Bones, bottles and
[255]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

tin preserve cans in extraordinary quantities
were strewn in every direction, and a half-
mile before we reached the town itself, a dead
horse lay abandoned in a ditch.

At this point we were hailed by a party of
bedraggled refugees who warned us that it
would be useless to try to enter Coulommiers.

"We're from Neuilly-St. Front, on our way
home, but there doesn't seem much chance of
our getting any further. The place is in the
hands of the military authorities — with orders
to let no one pass."

We halted, and George went on ahead and
interviewed a sentry, returning with a nega-
tive reply, and the information that Coulom-
miers was in a pretty mess after the looting.

"It can't be worse than La Ferte Gauche."
And above the almost deafening roar of the
cannon an elderly man told us how his caravan
had been caught by the Germans, stripped of
everything they possessed, separated from
their women folk, and with armed sentries back
of them had been forced to work at the building
of a temporary bridge to replace the one the
French had blown up.

"I got off easy — with only a few welts from
[256]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

a raw-hide," he murmured, "but my brother
(and he pointed to a very stout mascuhne
figure rolled in a blanket and sitting motion-
less on the steps of an abandoned road house)
— "my brother's nearly done for! You see he's
near-sighted and not used to manual labor, and
every time he missed his nail with the hammer,
the German coward would jab him in the ribs
with the point of his bayonet. Seventy-two
wounds !"

"And your women?"

"God knows what they did to them! My
wife hasn't stopped sobbing since we met.
She's dazed — I can't make her talk."

As he rambled on with his haphazard story,
glad of fellow sympathy, I spied a line of
British Army Supply carts advancing up the
road. The leader came to a halt and getting
down, the driver entered the first of the aban-
doned dwellings before which we were stand-
ing. Presently he reappeared.

"Just my luck! I say" — (and this addressed
to our group with a sort of blank, hopeless
expression) "I don't suppose any of you
Frenchies know where I could get a cup of
teal"

[257]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I laughed outright, much to his astonish-
ment.

"Not anywhere around here, unless you're
willing to wait until I can build fire enough to
make you one!"

The man blushed crimson.

"Ah— I couldn't think—"

"No trouble. Get one of your men to make
a blaze, and, boasting aside, I'll brew you a
cup such as you haven't had since you left
England."

No sooner said than done, and quarter of an
hour later, a half-dozen Tommy Atkins were
sipping hot Kardomah with sugar and con-
densed milk, from tin mugs.

"You're certainly right — the French don't
know how to do it, at least in these parts. I
had a teapotful yesterday morning that was as
near a mixture of stewed herbs and Hunyadi
water I ever hope to taste. And now, isn't
there something we can do for you?"

"Tell me where you're bound for?"

The man brought out a note-book and
pointed to a name.

"La Ferte-sous-Jouarre?"

"Yes, that's it. I wouldn't dare tackle it."
[ 258 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Is the road clear? Can we go there? It's
only fifteen kilometres from my home."

"I don't know if they'll let you by — but if
you're clever and follow on close behind us
with your Red Cross armlet, there's just a
chance — that's all."

I didn't need a second bidding and after
warning my people not to talk if we met sen-
tries but to have faith in me, we pushed ahead.
Our army friends with better horses soon left
us in the rear, but undaunted we proceeded,
finally reaching the heights that overlooked La
Ferte — and led into the village, Jouarre,
perched on the side of the hill running towards
the Marne.

Oh, the pitiful sights that met our gaze as we
wended our way along those glorious roads,
now full of ruts and knee-deep in mud! As
far as eye could see the entire country had
served as a huge camp for the invader, and
when forced to flee he had sacked and destroyed
everything within his reach. The wonderful
fertile fields had been soiled, polluted, and
among other damning evidences of their fury,
the smoking ruins of every farm house stood
like spectres in the brilliant sunshine.
[259]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUE

At the entrance to La Ferte our road was
barred by two sentinels, elderly peasants, by
their looks. I played mum and tapped my
Red Cross armlet.

''Non, on ne passe pas!"

I beckoned them and fumbled among my
papers for my carte dfidentite. They ap-
proached the cart, but as they did so, my
faithful Betsy let forth an angry growl.

"Down !" I commanded in English. "Down,
I say! They're not going to hurt me!"

Those phrases were my undoing!

"Oh, ho !" said my interlocutors. "And after
that you think you're going to get past us?
We've had enough Bodies in this place. You
can come in — ^but between us !" And jumping
up on either side of me, one of them took the
reins and started forward. This being taken
for a spy was an altogether new and very
disagreeable sensation.

"But, gentlemen," I protested calmly, "I'm
known in this place. If there's an inhabitant
left I'll be identified in a second. How green
you'll feel if you drag me before an officer and
find you're mistaken!"

They were unrelenting.
[260]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I invoked my identity card.

No, they had heard me speak in a foreign
tongue and all foreign tongues to them were
German !

And so we entered La Ferte.

Doors and windows no longer existed — the
former had been dashed to splinters by the
butt ends of guns, while the latter were shat-
tered to powder and from their apertures
swung bed clothing, personal adornment and
household belongings in shreds and tatters —
all wilfully soiled by mud and filth.

It was useless to try to drive our cart up
the main street, so calling a passing comrade,
my detainers bid him hold my horse until they
returned after having fait leur affaire^ as they
expressed it.

The plate glass windows of every store lay
in thousands of pieces below their sashes, and
the entire stock of merchandise whether fur-
niture or drapery, groceries or dairy products,
had been hurled through them into the middle
of the thoroughfare. Above these were piled
pell-mell bedding and chairs, wardrobes and
wash basins, all splintered and broken — the
whole making the most pitiable conglomeration
[261]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I ever hope to witness. One plucky dealer
was already boarding up the great yawning
cavities that were once show windows, and here
and there a frightened female face peeped out
from behind the ruins of her commerce.

"Madame Huard!" cried a familiar voice
behind me. ''Mon Dieu — ^j^ou !"

I turned and recognized my pastry baker's
wife.

''Oui, moi; arretee/^

"Arrested!"

"Yes, unless you will be good enough to
inform these gentlemen who I am?"

''Est-il possible! Est-il possible! Why, of
course, I know you — how dare they!"

"You see," I said, turning to the auooil-
aires.

But they were inflexible, bidding my friend
follow on if she could swear to mj^ identity.
She obeyed, but our group had attracted the
attention of a couple of small boys who darted
out of an alley way like rats from a cellar,
calling, ''Uespionne — Vespionne !''

Thank fortune, at that instant we came upon
an officer, whom I accosted at a distance, ex-
plained my case and produced my card and
[262]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

my pastry baker. He understood in a moment,
and hastily discharged my custodians.

"I cannot scold them. They're over zealous,
but we've been so horribly betrayed all along.
You understand, I'm sure. Please accept my
apologies, Madame!"

I bowed and he departed. Then I turned to
my friend.

"You've heard the news, I suppose,
Madame!"

"No— what?"

She suddenly grew white.

"Quick — out with it, woman!"

She hesitated.

"Is H.— ?"

"Non, not that, Madame, but a quarter of
an hour ago it was noised about that the enemy
are still retreating, and that we were pounding
into their headquarters — le chateau de Vil-
Iters/'

I felt myself whitening. The woman saw it,
and catching me by the arm, "Come, come,"
she said. "You're tired; perhaps it isn't true,
so many false alarms have been launched.
Come and have a cup of coffee — you'll excuse
our back room — it's all we have left."
[263]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I gladly followed her, picking my way
through what had once been one of the most
enticing of provincial pastry shops, the good
soul apologizing all the time, as if she had been
responsible for the damage. As she prattled
on, though my own brain was swimming I
now and then grasped such phrases as three
days of looting, two days' bombardment. As
she passed me a cup of coffee, she explained
that the invaders had not been satisfied with
violently appropriating all personal articles
which they had found to their liking, but after
having drunk all the wine in the cellars, they
had wilfully cut open the bags of flour and
thrown it pell-mell in every direction.

"And, Madame, they got into my reserve of
eggs — five thousand of them — " she wept —
"five thousand! All my winter's store. I
wouldn't have minded if they had eaten them
— but to see them purposely crushed and
wasted. Two of those wretches spent half a
day bringing them up from the cellar in their
helmets, and then dragging me out, would hurl
them at the walls and windows, savagely re-
joicing in my distress!"

I couldn't remain indoors — I had but one
[264]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

thought — get to ViUiers or see someone who
knew for certain what had happened there.

Again I crossed the shop, paddhng through
that sticky yellow slime in which bits of fur-
niture and clothing floated like croutons in a
gigantic nauseating omelet.

Outside, towards the end of the street that
opened on to the quai, great animation reigned.
A bugle sounded and I could hear the tramp
of soldiers' feet.

"Look!" cried my friend. "Look, all that is
left of the Institut St. Joseph, the pride of La
Ferte."

Across the river between the broken spans of
the bridge, my eye fell upon the gutted remains
of what had once been a most exquisite bit of
eighteenth century architecture. The man-
sion which had sheltered Louis XVI and
Marie Antoinette on their eventful return from
Varennes, was now a smoking pile of ashes!

"And to think we had to do it! Oh, curse
their hides!" muttered an elderly man close to
my elbow.

"We?"

"Yes."

[265]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Why, when they had to get out of here
they crossed the Marne, destroyed the bridge
and entrenched themselves in the houses along
the bank. The English caught them like rats
in a cage, but at what a price! One fellow
that's rowed across says he can hear them
moaning, but you bet they can rot there before
we'll go to 'em. Begging your pardon for
the language!"

A dozen men of the genie were busy con-
structing a temporary arch between two spans,
and just as soon as a plank was laid a regiment
from Cherbourg (almost all reservists) filed
over one by one. The population gave them
an ovation, and it was a curious sight to see
these care-worn, haggard-faced people simply
going mad with joy, while around them was
heaped desolation.

"I hope you haven't come for your tea
service, Madame?"

I turned and recognized my china dealer,
who smiled cynically as he motioned towards
his shop.

"It doesn't pay to be a glass merchant these
days. It only took two shells to send twenty
years' earnings into splinters! There's not a
[266]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

whole goblet or plate in the entire establish-
ment ! But I wouldn't have cared if they hadn't
maltreated the women. I — "

"Come and see!" cried another. "Durant's
house has tumbled down and his wife and
family are smothering in the cellar. Quick!"

There was a general rush in that direction,
but I pushed on towards the bridge. It was
evident my carts could not cross, but there was
just a hope that they would let George and me
through with our bicycles.

I accosted the sentry who stood mounting
guard beside a motor which was thrown up
on the side of the road, twisted and distorted
like a tin toy one has walked on.

No, the bridge was for the army only.

I insisted.

An officer came to my rescue, but could
only confirm the sentry's orders.

"You're not safe even here. This is the firing
line. We don't know yet for certain whether
we are going to hold the ground we gained.
Villiers? Still in the Germans' hands."

I sighed and was about to turn away. "Then
Where's the nearest bridge across?"

"Meaux."

[267]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"But that's thirty kilometres west! I'm
only fifteen from home here!"

"I wish I could help you, but there's no use
trying to leave here unless you go that way."

Then Meaux it must be, and though our trip
was considerably lengthened, anything was
better than inaction.

[268]

VIII

It was with much reluctance that we turned
our backs on La Ferte the following morning
and headed our horses westward.

Naturally the right of way was reserved for
the army, and the roads bordering the Marne
were now lined with soldiers, guns, ambulances
and supply vans rushing to the front. After
being side-tracked and halted no less than two
score times, we finally reached Trilport, where
the invaders had done but little material
damage. The terrified civil population was
even exultant, for two nights previously an
automobile containing four German officers
sped through the town, in the direction of
Paris, and ignorant of the fact that the English
had destroyed the bridge, had been precipitated
into the river. The affair seemed to be con-
sidered as a huge joke, and the chief amuse-
ment now consisted in hanging over the broken
side and contemplating the gruesome spectacle
of a half-submerged motor, and four human
[269]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

bodies lying inanimate on some rocks, rapidly-
swelling, thanks to heat and the current.

"When we're sure they're good and dead,
we'll bury 'em," explained a man whom I
questioned.

As I write this phrase, now that more than
a year has elapsed, it seems cruel and heart-
less, but on the spur of the moment, and after
all that each one had endured, it was but
justice.

Though barges were being rapidly brought
into position so as to form a temporary bridge,
I felt it would be a good two days before we
could get across, and so following the course
of the river, we wended our way in and out,
round about, this time through peaceful coun-
try, until we reached Meaux.

My heart leaped with joy when on approach-
ing I saw the cathedral standing unharmed,
like a guardian above the peaceful little city.

The Germans had made but a brief stay here,
merely an entree and sortie, and had been re-
ceived by Bishop Marbeau, in such a fashion as
is likely to be recorded in history and place
his name beside that of his famous predecessor,
Bossuet.

[270]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

One or two stray shells had fallen into the
place, but the harm done was insignificant.
The most picturesque and melancholy sight
was along the river front, where to head off
the enemy's approach the French had been
obliged to blow up those ancient bridges —
landmarks of the fifteenth and sixteenth cen-
turies, for, like the Ponte Vecchio at Florence,
they were lined with houses and mills, whose
pointed roofs and apparent beams had
weathered nearly five hundred years ! Strange
as it may seem, it was they that resisted the
most, and, though the d^oiamite had severed
their connection with land and shattered their
pale-blue window panes, not a house had col-
lapsed, and as they stood in the sun's dying
blaze, they seemed to say, "Touch me, if you
dare!"

Washboats, rowboats, barges and every
available means of navigation had been sunk
or put out of working order and though the
enemy was hardly ten miles distant, men and
women were busily engaged in setting them
afloat.

Once again all we could do was to stand
and gaze at the opposite bank and after assur-
[271]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

ing ourselves that there was no possible way
of crossing, we hastily departed for Lagny.

That night we slept in a shed hospitably
offered by a lone peasant woman, and the next
morning triumphantly crossed the river and set
our faces homeward.

Branching northward into the open country
we chose all the by-roads and short cuts where
our carts would pass, in order to avoid the
long streams of ambulances and ammunition
vans, as well as in the hope of finding better
thoroughfares. A drizzling rain had set in the
night before, making the roads, which up until
now had been covered with a thick layer of
dust, slippery and uncomfortable. Highways
which heretofore had been seldom trodden,
were full of ruts and bumps, and from Langy
to Villiers there was hardly a corner but what
showed signs of the invaders' passage. Over
these green and fertile fields whose crops had
proudly waved their heads about the lovely
Marne, were strewn straw and empty bottles
in unimaginable quantities. Thousands of
blackened or charred spots dotting the coun-
tryside, told of campfires and hasty bivouacs,
and as we silently plodded on towards Charny,
[272]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

the growing evidences of recent battle met our
saddened gaze.

Here a shell had burst on the road, in the
midst of a bicycle squadron, scattering men
and machines to the four winds of Heaven.
A little mound, a rough-hewn cross, marked the
spot where some sixty soldiers laj^ in their last
peaceful sleep, while the inelee of tangled wire
and iron which had once been machines, as well
as blood-stained garments, bits of shell, and
even human flesh, made a gruesome and in-
describable picture.

Souvenirs? The idea never entered my
head. And my kodak, which I had been so
prompt to use to commemorate various events,
seemed a vulgar, inquisitive instrument, and
was left unheeded in the bottom of the cart.
Each step brought us face to face with the
horrors of warfare. Towards Villeroy a num-
ber of battered Parisian taxicabs gave us the
first hint of General Galheni's clever manoeuvre
which helped save the capital — and then the
wind brought towards us a nauseating odor,
which paralyzed our appetites, and sent us
doggedly onwards: the stench of the battle-
field.

[273]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

The girls in the cart drew closer together,
shivering, though the air was warm and muggy.
Even old Cesar seemed to feel the awe of that
Valley of Shadow, and no one murmured as
we passed the first bloated carcasses of dead
horses and came upon that far more horrid
sight — human bodies — swelled to twice their
natural size, lying as death had met them —
some in piles, others farther apart — all un-
recognizable, but once proud mothers' petted
darhngs. I think they were our enemies. I
did not stop to investigate; the flies bothered
us so terribly, and long low mounds with red
he])is piled upon them told of the graves of
France's defenders. Far ahead I could dis-
cover groups of men with shovels, hastily bury-
ing those who remained. To the right a lazy
column of dense smoke rose reluctantly in the
heavy air. I fancied it came from a funeral
pyre ; we certainly smelled tar and petrol. The
ground beneath rocked with the thundering of
the distant cannon, and as one peal burst
louder a flock of jet black crows mounted
heavenward, mournfully cawing in the semi-
twilight.

So we continued, a silent, foot-sore, rain-
[274]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

soaked community. With the growing remote-
ness of imminent danger came the reaction of
all we had passed through, and deep down in
our hearts we welcomed the idea of entering
a village.

A village! Alas! As we reached the road
leading to Barcy, there was a rift in the clouds,
and a long golden ray shot through an enor-
mous breach in the church tower, flickered a
moment upon a group of roofless houses, and
was gone. Night closed in.

Our spirits sank. Yvonne began to moan
with agony, her sciatica had returned with the
dampness, and Nini for some unknown reason,
began sobbing as though her heart would break.
I could see the moment not far distant when
our whole party, seized with fear, would become
panic-stricken, and that idea, together with the
one of camping in the sodden fields surrounded
by grim death, was anything but reassuring.

"Come on," I urged. "Surely Barcy is not
entirely deserted."

What mud! What a road — sometimes en-
tirely gutted, sometimes so obstructed with
gasoline cans, hubs of wheels and scraps of
iron, that I was obliged to lead Cesar by the
[275]

MY HOME IX THE FIELD OF HONOUR

bridle, while the others would walk ahead and
clear a passage. Their progress was snail-like,
for there was little oil left in our lantern and
they hesitated before casting the refuse into
the ditch for fear of profaning some unknown
hero's grave.

And so, stumbling and halting, we came into
Barcy. As we passed in front of the battered
church we could see the huge bronze bell lying
amid a pile of beams, at the foot of the belfry.
The cadran of the clock tower was midway
between the ruins of the edifice itself and those
of what had once been the town hall. Not a
living soul was to be seen anywhere. Stay —
yes — there in front of us was a masculine
figure.

I called "Monsieur!"

He halted an instant. Then shook his head
and skulked away.

Through an oiled paper that had replaced
the panes of a shattered window in a house
which no longer had a second story I caught
sight of a flickering light. I boldly knocked on
the door.

''Qui est la?" asked a high-pitched, trem-
bling female voice.

[276]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"I, Madame H. of Villiers."

"I don't know you — go your way!"

"But we are refugees."

"I have nothing left. Allez-vous-enr

That was categorical, to say the least. So
on we went, past the charred ruins of one-time
happy homes.

As we rounded a corner our lantern cast a
dim glow on to the drawn shutters of a half-
collapsed structure.

"Stop a moment," said Julie; "there's some-
thing written on those blinds."

I approached, and holding the light as close
as possible I read the following sign, chalked
in huge white letters:

''Attention, No Loitering. Looters mil be
shot on the spot!''

That was the last straw, and though it was
obvious that the warning was intended for the
troops now miles away, it sent us ahead with
uncanny celerity.

Our advance was short-lived, however, for it
soon became evident that our horses were
fagged out. Yet where to go became an agoniz-
ing question, for though we were still within
the limits of the village, not a roof was to be
[277]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

seen. There seemed to be but one thing to do,
and so, halting, I fumbled in the bottom of the
cart and brought forth a handful of dry straw,
and my precious bottle of brandy. Thanks to
these, a match and a sheltering wall, a flame
managed to blaze up, and from somewhere in
the vicinity Julie procured a bundle of brush
and an old broom.

With the heat our spirits rose. The girls
dried themselves as best they could before the
welcome fire, and though still awed by our sur-
roundings, we nibbled a crust of dry bread and
some stale cheese.

Then silently Nini and Yvonne crept back
into the cart, covered themselves with hay and
a blanket, opened an umbrella above their
heads, and soon were fast asleep. The others
begged me to share their bed beneath the cart,
but tormented by the thought of what had
become of H., racked by the anxiety of what
the future held in store, I could not resign
myself to rest, and the first grey streaks of
that cool September dawn found me seated on
a stone, staring at the glowing embers of our
watch-fire.

Again the wind shifted in our direction,
[ 278 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

bringing with it that same loathsome smell. I
shivered and pulled myself together, and after
carefully scrutinizing my road-map, decided
that there was just a chance of reaching Villiers
before night, but only if we started at once.
This living in suspense was beginning to tell
on my nerves and anything, even the assurance
of dreaded misfortune, would have seemed a
relief. After the state in which we had found
Barcy there was little doubt that our part
of the country had been treated the same way.
Perhaps it was still in the Germans' hands;
we had no way of knowing to the contrary.

I roused the servants and told them of my
intention, and in a few moments a pot of coffee
was boiling on the tripod. In spite of the early
hour I did not hesitate to add a little brandy
in each cup, for after twenty-four hours of
continual rain a stimulant was not only neces-
sary but welcome. I tried to coax the dogs to
take some, they seemed so wet and miserable,
but they spurned my offer, and stood looking
at me with most pitiful and mournful eyes.

Presently Tiger disappeared behind the wall,
and a second later we heard a low growl. With
childlike temerity Nini jumped up to see what
[279]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

was the cause of his alarm, and then ahuost
instantly I heard her gasp, ''Un mortT

That brought us to our feet and in a bound
I was on the spot just in time to see her fear-
lessly approaching the prostrate form of a
German soldier, the upper extremity of whose
body was hidden beneath the top of a tin wash
boiler. The child raised the lid, beheld, as we
did, a headless human trunk, and fell into a
swoon.

We were well on our road before she came to
her senses, and there were moments when I
almost wished she might remain dormant until
we had passed beyond the gruesome plain that
stretches between Barc}^ and Vareddes — now a
historic battlefield.

What a weird and wonderful sight it pre-
sented that gloomy September morning. Be-
hind us Barcy, whose every edifice was decapi-
tated or so degraded as to look like a gigantic
sieve. Around us and on all sides fields fairly
ploughed up by shot and shell, and every fifty
yards it seemed to me rose a freshly covered
mound, extending as far as eye could see. On
these new-made graves were piled hundreds
of red soldier caps, and here and there a hastily
[280]

A HUGE BLACK CROSS STOOD FORTH IN THE SEMI-
DARKNESS [Page 291]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

hewn wooden cross bearing such inscriptions
as these, scrawled in lead pencil on a smooth
space whittled by a jack knife:

Auoj Braves du 248

When an officer was found and identified,
he was buried alone and his name w^as care-
fully written on the cross, but more often we
saw graves marked thus:

let reposent deux officiers et quarante
hommes du 28 . . . ieme.

Sometimes the tomb was in the ditch (to
save digging) and once we saw the Parisian
pompiers burying some German corpses in the
very trench they had dug and died in.

Overhead tangled electric wires swung
dangerously near the road, the poles shattered
or knocked agog, while in the distance the
stumps of a once-majestic row of poplars made
the horizon look like a grinning toothless face.

Time and again we were obliged to leave
the road to avoid accident by passing over
unexploded shells, and I shall always recall a
gigantic oak tree which though still standing
was cleft in twain by a 77-shell embedded
[281]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

intact in the yawning trunk; the impact, not
the explosion, had caused the rift.

The farther we advanced the more evident
became the signs of recent conflict. Hay stacks
seemed to have been a favorite target as well
as refuge. One we saw was almost completely
tunneled through, and the blood bespattered
sides of the opening told that the occupant had
been caught as in a trap. Around these stacks
were scattered the remains of old boots and
shoes, scarlet blood-soaked rags, dry beans, bits
of soap, playing cards and songs. Oh, light-
hearted sons of France, it can be truly said that
death held no terrors for you, since from Barcy
to Soissons the ground you loved and so val-
iantly defended was strewn white with hun-
dreds of thousands of tender ditties and
chansons de route.

From Vareddes we passed on to Congis,
the only living soul we met being a little old
white-haired parish priest, who had set him-
self the task of blessing each new-made grave.

"If this rain continues some of them will be
so effaced in a fortnight that we shall never
find them. See — this cross is but two bits of
straw, bound together by a shoestring!"
[282]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

And he held up the fragile ornament for
my inspection.

"These are more durable," and he showed
another relic made of a bayonet sheath, crossed
on the blade itself 1

"And you — Monsieur le Cure — how is it
you are here?"

"Alas — ^would to God they had taken me
in the place of our boys! Seven of them,
Madame, carried off as hostages. I was too
old to be of use!"

"And the women?"

The poor little man hung his head.

" 'Twere better they had died!"

I understood and shuddered.

"God speed you, my daughter, and never
cease to thank Him for preserving you!"

Again we went our way.

Lizy-sur-Ourq, which we reached in the late
forenoon, presented a more animated, though
hardly more pleasing spectacle. On the tracks
in front of the station dozens of flat cars and
freight trains had been purposely run together.
Some had telescoped, others mounted high in
piles, one upon the other, their locomotives as
well as their contents being smashed and dam-
[283]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

aged — the whole scene presenting the aspect
of a gigantic railway wreck.

On the steps of the station, seated gun in
hand, three soldiers sat playing a game of
cards. Across the street a sentry mounted
guard in front of a large door over which
floated a Red Cross flag.

"What's in there?" I asked.

"Prisoners and wounded."

"Can I be of any assistance?"

"Hardly — only flesh wounds."

I peeked into the courtyard.

In one corner .lounging upon the ground
were a dozen untidy, unshaven men, whom I
recognized by their uniforms to be Germans.
One man cast an insolent glance toward me
and turned his back. Two others smiled and
pointed toward the bread they held in their
hands. On some straw in a couple of drays
lay five or six individuals, their arms in slings,
their heads bandaged.

"Nothing serious," explained a sergeant.
"We're waiting for our men to clear up the
tracks and the genie to throw a bridge across
the canal. Then we'll evacuate them."

He was neither sad nor triumphant,
[ 284 ]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"Were you in the battle?"

"Rather!"

"How did your regiment come off?"

"We're all that are left — forty-four of us,"
and he pointed toward the station where work
was rapidly progressing.

From them I procured some singe or army
beef, and we halted an hour to rest the horses
and eat our luncheon. We were beginning to
reach familiar territory and the idea of getting
home put new life into our tired limbs, and
made each moment of delay seem uselessly long.

From Lizy ours was a straight road and we
made rapid progress. The depressing signs
of battle became fewer and fewer. It was
evident that the rush had been northwest, for
while we encountered numerous proofs of the
armies' passage, graves and shells, trenches
and corpses gradually began to disappear. At
Cocherel, however, the enemy had burned a
grocery shop when they had failed to find what
they wanted. The few men who remained had
suffered much from ill treatment and passing
by the open gate of a splendid estate I cast a
glance up the long avenue and saw a sight
which gave me a pang at the heart.
[ 285 ]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

On the green in front of the chateau lay a
battered bilhard table and a grand piano, both
turned on end, and much the worse for having
served as a defense against a rain of shot.
Around them were strewn broken furniture,
pictures, linen and bottles in such a sorry mess
that I dared not even think what Villiers might
now look like.

Curiosity was quenched. We cast a second
glance, and turned our faces eastward.

The afternoon was well advanced when we
reached Montreuil-aux-Lions, our home coun-
try. We found that here less damage had
been done from heavy artillery, but all the
edifices had suffered from close-range rifle fire.
An English sentry was pacing up and down
in front of the town hall. Over the entrance
was nailed a Turkish towel on which a Red
Cross was stained with human blood!

"Prisoners?" I asked.

"All wounded, thank you," was the cour-
teous reply.

I sought out my friend the inn-keeper who
held up his hands in astonishment, bade us
enter and made us partake of a warm meal.
The first we had had since we left home!
[286]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"But how did you come to be spared?" I
queried.

"Because I was good to them."

"Bah! How could you?"

"I didn't intend to, but, you see, they
tricked me. It was early morning when half
a dozen officers on horseback rode up to the
door.

" 'Where are our Allies?' they asked.

"I thought of course they were Englishmen.
The uniform was unfamiliar to me, but they
all spoke perfect French. Unwittingly I gave
them the requested information, and they asked
me to bring up some good wine. Then they
threw a gold piece on to the table, and when
I had poured out my Burgundy, they begged
me to touch glasses with them.

" *Ah, gentlemen, it is a pleasure to offer
you the best I have. Thank God, it is not for
German stomachs !'

"To my surprise, an uproarious laugh
greeted my statement and brought my glass
down with a shock.

" Toor fellow!' they tittered. *Come, drink
to our success and the Kaiser's health!'

"I think they realized my fright and agony.
[287]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

They did not force me — ^but laughed anew,
drank and were gone."

"What regunents drove them out?"

"The Enghsh. Quels gaillards! And clean !
Well!"

"What do you mean?"

"Yes, they nearly used up all the water in
Montreuil washing!"

"Do you know anything of Villiers?"

"No. I spent most of my time in the cellar
during the fight, and since they've been gone
I'm living in terror lest they return."

"Have you seen no one from down there?"

"No, not a soul."

"Do you think Villiers was bombarded?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I know the
English troops that were here headed in that
direction."

This suspense was too agonizing! I fear I
so abbreviated my stay at Montreuil that the
good inn-keeper was offended. I jumped on
to my bicycle and knowing that the roads were
now familiar to all, abandoned my little party,
bidding them hurry to join me at home.

On, on I sped, through the slippery mud,
looking neither right nor left, but straight
[288]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

ahead in the hope of recognizing a familiar face
or form.

Twihght was deepening when I entered
Bezu-le-Guery (our nearest home town) , which
seemed to show apparently but few signs
of pillaging. I did not even dismount to
make inquiries, but pedaled on till I reached
the summit of that long, long hill that leads
straight down to my home. Excitement lent
a new impulse to my energy, and my heart
thumped hard as I recognized familiar cottages
still standing. This raised my hopes and sent
me rocket-like down that steep incline.

Still not a soul in sight — no noise save that
of the guns roaring in the distance.

But what was that in the semi-darkness
ahead of me? A dog? Could it be true? I
back-pedaled and whistled — a long, low, fa-
miliar howl greeted my ears and brought the
tears to my eyes.

And then my poor old beagle hound came
trotting up the road to welcome me — his tail
wagging joyously and a long frayed cord
dangling from his collar.

This was a relief and somewhat steadied and
prepared me for what was to come.
[289]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Through a gap in the trees I caught a
ghmpse of the roofs below. And so I rounded
the corner and started on my last hundred
yards.

The broken and tangled grill of our stately
gateway told of the invaders' visit. A few
paces further and the chateau come into full
view.

Yes, it was standing, but only the shell of
that lovely home I had fled from but fourteen
days before.

Dropping my machine I rushed towards the
entrance hall, cast one glance through the
broken panes into the vestibule, and turned
away in despair.

All the wilful damage that human beings
could do had been wrought on the contents of
my home.

The spell was broken. My nerves relaxed
and heedless of the filth I dropped on to the
steps and wept.

[290]

IX

I THINK it was the stench from within that
first roused me from my grief and made me
reahze that this was war and no time for tears.
I tried to comfort myself with the thought that
at least I had a roof to cover me, but this was
poor consolation.

Pulling myself together, I started across the
lawn towards the village in search of aid, for
a second glance told me that it was useless even
to think of entering the house, so great was the
filth and disorder.

Slowly I pushed onward, my head bent, my
heart heavy with sorrow and worry. Twenty
paces in front of me I discerned a low mound
and then, horror of horrors, a huge black cross
stood forth in the semi-darkness. A grave —
a German grave. Some poor souls interred
on my greensward; but why, since our little
cemetery is but a couple of hundred yards up
the road?

yilliers is not a cheerful village even in time
[291]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

of peace, but on this particular evening (Sep-
tember 14, 1914) it was even darker than ever.
My eyes growing accustomed to the obscurity
could see that most of the houses, though
damaged from the battle, were still standing
and in one or two windows the glow of a light
gladdened my gaze.

I went straight to the town hall where I
pounded on the door and called my name. A
familiar shuffling of feet told me that Monsieur
Duguey had remained faithful to his post as
town clerk (the only acting official since the
army was mobilized) and when he opened the
door and saw me, his eyes lit up with joy.
Holding a candle high over his head, he smiled
and then his face fell.

''Pauvre Madame" he said. "Have you
seen the chateau?"

I nodded.

"Ah, the vandals! Not war, but highway
robbery, I call it. We poor peasants had little
to lose, but with you, Madame, it is different."

And then he told me how but a few hours

after I had left the Germans took possession

of the chateau and how for five nights and

days in a ceaseless stream the flower of the

[292]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

Prussian army had poured down the road to-
wards the coveted capital.

At dawn on that eventful September morn-
ing an officer had ridden up to the town hall,
called for the mayor or his representative, and
on Monsieur Duguey's appearance, had de-
manded so much fodder for the horses, so much
champagne for the officers, and Charles
Huard !

M. Duguey was taken hostage to respond
to the first two demands and on having sworn
on the cross that both my husband and I were
absent, he was ordered to lead the way to our
home, where for forty-eight hours he was de-
tained as prisoner in the kitchen, while a staff
of German noblemen raised riot in our home.

Taunted and insulted by the soldiers who
mounted guard in the kitchen where a chef
prepared the general's food, he was bid hold
his tongue and his temper by this same chef,
who, for eleven years, had cooked at a well-
known hotel on the rue de Rivoli ! No wonder
he spoke good French.

''Pauvre Madame! Perhaps you've come
back too soon! If we only knew they would
not return!"

[ 293 ]

MY HOME IN THE EIELD OF HONOUR

The cannon in the distance shook the house
as though to corroborate his statement.

"Is there anyone left to help me clean a
place to sleep in?"

"I'll go. There are only one or two women
who remained behind, but I presume they're
sorry they did! What a God-send you got
away!"

I understood and was thankful.

Monsieur Duguey put his candle into his
lantern, shouldered a broom, and taking a
blanket, led the way towards the chateau.

Want of words to express our fears and
distress sealed our lips as we picked our way
into a filthy, can-strewn, bottle-littered court-
yard, towards a wing of the chateau where I
had chosen to sleep.

I hardly know what we plodded through in
the corridor. My companion pushed things
into heaps in one corner of the room, and when
I saw him sweep off a mattress and throw his
blanket upon it, I realized that my bed was
made.

"You are not afraid, Madame?"

"No."

"Then, a demain. I will come and help you.
[294]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

I fear, however, that I must leave you in dark-
ness, for there are no matches in the village.
We have to borrow light for our fires, and our
stock of candles is nearly gone. They are
only the butts the Germans left behind!"

Exhausted I fell asleep, to be awakened with
a start towards dawn by the clatter of horses'
feet on the paved court beneath my window.

Cavalry?

I listened.

Yes, surely. But what cavalry? Ours?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I put
my head out of the empty sash to behold a most
pathetic sight. There in the pouring rain stood
some twenty shivering horses, once fine ani-
mals, but now wounded and broken. The
lamentable little group, left-behinds of the in-
vaders, was headed by my old grey donkey,
who had gathered them together and was now
leading them towards warmth and shelter.
This sympathy among animals moved me
deeply, and I started down to see what I could
do to alleviate their suffering.

I am ashamed to say, however, that I never
reached the stable, for the sights of filth and
horror that I met on the way so distracted me
[295]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

that I pushed on through the whole house,
anxious to see really how much damage had
been done.

I was still making my disheartening rounds
when the others drove into the yard, and the
wails of lamentation rose long and loud from
their lips.

How can one describe it? It seems almost
impossible. Too much has already been said,
too little is really known, so I shall content
myself with a few brief statements.

Above all I would have it understood that
the chateau was first occupied by General von
Kluck and his staff. The names crayoned on
the doors of my bed-rooms in big red letters
bear testimony — as well as some soiled under-
linen and a glassentuch marked v. K. — and
numerous papers stamped with the Imperial
seal. These latter are all orders or reports
belonging to the third army corps, and were
left behind in the precipitation of the flight !

As I now am able to see the matter in a
cooler frame of mind, I realize that not only
was efficiency carried out in warfare but in
looting — for it seems that everything we pos-
sessed was systematically classified as good,
[296]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

bad or indifferent — the former and the latter
being carefully packed into huge army supply
carts, which for five long days stood backed
up against our doorstep, leaving only when
completely laden with spoils.

Then what remained was thrown into cor-
ners and wilfully soiled and smeared in the
most disgusting and nauseating manner.

A proof of the above-mentioned efficiency
can be given in a description of my husband's
studio, where I found all the frames standing
empty — ^the canvases having been carefully
cut from them with a razor, and rolled for
convenience' sake.

Useless to mention that tapestries, silver,
jewels, blankets and household, as well as per-
sonal linen, were considered trophies of war.
That to me is far more comprehensible than
the fact that our chateau being installed with
all modern sanitary conveniences, these were
purposely ignored, and corridors and corners,
satin window curtains and even beds, were used
for the most ignoble purposes.

Everywhere were sickening traces of sodden
drunkenness. On the table beside each bed
(most of them now bereft of their matresses)
[297]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

stood champagne bottles, and half emptied
glasses. The straw-strewn drawing-room much
resembled a cheap beer garden after a Satur-
day night's riot, and the unfortunate upright
piano was not only decked with empty cham-
pagne bottles but also contained some two to
three hundred pots of jam poured down inside
— glass and all, probably just for a joke. Oh,
Kultur!

I think that and the fact that most of my
ducks and small animals had been killed and
left to lie and rot, were the things that most
angered me, and every time the guns boomed I
prayed ardently for revenge!

And 'twas I, who believing in Teuton chiv-
alry, had imagined my love-letters, protected
by my country's emblem, would be respected!
My poor little rosewood desk had been merci-
lessly jabbed with bayonets, and its contents
strewn from one end of the village to the other.
As to the Stars and Stripes, when we finally
disgorged the pipes of certain sanitary appar-
atus that one does not usually mention in polite
society, they were found there in a lamentable
condition and carried to the wash-house with
a tongs.

[298]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

What a destitute little village we were.
Mine was but the common lot, for each one
had lost in proportion to his fortune. Yet
there was no lamenting. There was work to
be done, for the vintage season was coming
on and the vines in most places had been
respected. The German officers had eVen an-
.nounced the fact that our country was already-
annexed, and that this was to be the champagne
to commemorate the triumph of the Father-
land!

My little servants took hold of their filthy
job and worked unceasingly though it was a
thankless task — for soap and soda did not exist,
and food, save the vegetables and a little pork,
was hard to get.

A week sped by, and then one afternoon a
military auto drove up to the door. As I saw
it enter the yard, I trembled lest it bring bad
tidings of H., but a kindly officer reassured
me, by stating that though he brought only
word of mouth, my husband was still in the
land of the living. He also announced that it
was his duty to requisition my property as a
French emergency hospital and that he would
be obliged if I would put all the beds I owned
[299]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

at his disposal. A doctor and some infirmiers
would be sent immediately to put the place in
working order. Would I help? And did I
loiow of anyone I would care to have with
me?

"You will be voluntary prisoners, you know,
for this is the zone des operations, and you
will not be allowed to leave."

I bethought me of Madame Guix. Was she
still alive?

My friend said he would be glad to accom-
pany me to Rebais, as that was as near as any
place for recruiting a nurse.

And so again I whisked across the Marne.
This time en grande Vitesse, and in little over
an hour was greeted by the gentle superior who
'mid the ruins of all the neighboring houses
was quietly continuing her work in the convent.

Yes. Madame Guix was there — a heroine,
so I learned, loved and respected by every soul
who had been obliged to remain in that un-
fortunate town. I found her ministering to
twenty-six severely wounded men — French,
English and Germans — quite alone to do all the
work, an eighty-year-old doctor coming in but
once every two days.

[300]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

"I cannot leave them," said she, pointing to
the soldiers, when I asked her to ally forces in
the reconstitution of my hospital. "But just as
soon as they are able to be removed, I will
come! I promise."

In the parlour below, the Sister Superior
told me of the invasion, while I waited the
return of the military motor which was to bear
me home.

*'She is wonderful," said Soeur Laurent,
referring to Madame Guix. "Wonderful —
afraid of nothing. Once at the beginning of
the invasion she was put against the wall and
a brute of a German aimed and pulled the
trigger of a gun he had found in a corner. She
had accidentally covered it with a wounded
man's great coat! He accused her of hiding
arms! Then in the thick of the battle, she
went out into the German lines and sought a
doctor for our men — feeling herself incom-
petent. The whole German medical staff
came in and felicitated her on her courage and
devotion, before they left. I tell you all this —
because she never will!"

A couple of days later a doctor and the
[301]

MY HOME IN THE FIELD OF HONOUR

infirmiers arrived, the latter not picked men,
since in ordinary life they are a tax collector,
a super at the Theatre de Belleville, an
omnibus painter, a notary's clerk and a barber !
But they are all "good fellows," ready to work
with no choice as to the "job."

Madame Guix duly made her appearance,
and our hospital was declared open.

From loans and requisitions we accumulated
a hundred beds, and for fifteen months now,
by begging and strictest economy, we have
managed to keep alive and to care, as best we
can and in our primitive way, for all those of
France's brave sons who come to us, sick or
wounded. With God's help, we shall go on
doing so until the day of our complete victory.

[302]

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